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SOME CLASS 

BY 

EDITH F. A. U. PAINTON 


Price 35 Cents 



The Willis N. Bugbee Co. 

SYRACUSE, N. Y. 
















Bugbee’s Popular Plays 


SOME CLASS 

A Commencement Play in Four Acts 
and an Epilogue 

BY 

EDITH F. A. U. PAINTON 


Dedicated to my daughter 
EILEEN E. PUTNAM 
and her Class of nearly two hundred members 
in Manual Arts High School, 

Los Angeles, California 
Summer, 1917 


Copyright 1917, by Willis N. Bugbee. 


The Willis N. Bugbee Co. 

SYRACUSK N. Y. 

FEB 14191/ 



SOME CLASS 

A Class Play in Four Acts and an Epilogue 

BY EDITH F. A. U. PAINTON 


CHARACTERS 

{In order of their appearance.) 

Professor Collins Cleveland, The Principal . 

Kathryn Kline, an apostle of Art. .. 

(Carrie Belle Tyler, who should have been a boy .. 

Arabella Araminta Arethusa Ayers . 

Jack Reese . 

Leroy West . 

Carleton Harris . 

Miss Jessica Merrill . 

Douglas Knight . 

Bart Beemer . 

Mina Green, commonly called Dude ^ 

Nina Green, commonly called Babe f . 

Hannah Moore . 

Viola Vere . 

Dolly Denton, dramatic aspirations . 

“Gym” unseen^ but potent in influence . 

“Dick” by Himself . 


. Some “Prof.” 
. Some Genius. 
Some Tomboy. 
... Some Poet. 
Some Athlete. 
Some Captain. 
Some President, 
Some Teacher. 
Some Editor. 
Some Janitor. 

. Some Twins. 

.. Some Grind. 

Some Beauty, 
, Some Mimic. 
Some Diversion. 
Some Necessity. 


Time.—Sometime. Place,—Somewhere. 
Time of Playing—Some, one hundred minutes. 


SYNOPSIS. 

ACT. I. Freshmen. Enrollment and Organization. 

The Freshman Year is fresh and sweet 
With infant buds of verdant hue; 
While each hour moves with rapid feet 
To rub the rawness from the new. 


ACT II. Sophomores. Dramatics and Athleties. 

The Sophomore Year is brave and bright,— 

The boast and pride of many schools; 

While few can guess with what delight 
Tradition classes them ‘AVise Fools!” 

ACT III. Juniors. Debates and Co?itests. 

The Junior Year is full of toil— 

The year that brings forth Avisdom’s lore; 

The student burns the midnight oil, 

•Unlearning all he learned before. 

ACT IV. Seniors. Reminiseenees and Prophesies. 

The Senior Year,—let us forbear! 

What could we add to fame so great? 

AVhat could we, even did we dare. 

Express of such a lofty state? 

EPILOGUE. Commencement. 

Commencement! Magic hour indeed! 

The goal of every student’s fate! 

The blessings of all school life lead '. ^ 

The way to crown the graduate! ^ 

















P5?S3I 

'^f'/.pSOME CLASS 

^ ‘ NOTE: 

The aim of the author iu composing this play has been two-fold: 
--first, to produce in each act a typical scene of the year represented; 
and second, to make each part of equal strength and importance, 
giving to each actor his turn, in some part of the play, at the “center 
of the stage.” 

The costumes should be conventional, designed to emphasize the 
gradual growth. In the first act, the girls in short dresses and pig¬ 
tails, and the boj's in knee trousers; in the second act, slightly older; 
in the third, considerably advanced in dignity, both in appearance and 
action; while in the last act and the epilogue, they are “grown up.” 

C is Center; R, Right, and L, Left. 

ACT I. 

SCENE:— Prof. Cleveland’s Office. Desk at left side of back, with 
revolving chair. Dictionary in holder at right of hack. Entrance at cen¬ 
ter of back. Another entrajice at right side, near back, and a third at left 
side, near front. A line of benches stretches along right side of stage, 
from entrance to front. Other furnishings to suit producer. 

PROF. CLEVELAND is discovered at desk. He writes steadily in 
book for a little, then pauses, removes glasses, wipes them very carefully, 
and looks watch, somewhat uneasily, looking toward C. entrance. Then 
replaces glasses, and resumes writing, with slightly vjorried air. Pause. 

Enter KATHRYN KLINE, L. Walks up to him. 

KATHRYN {meekly). Professor Cleveland. (A little louder). 
Professor Cleveland! {Pause. Clears throat and raises voice, 
but still very timidly). Professor Cleveland! 

PROF. CLEVELAND. ( Whirls suddenly to face her. She 
starts bsick in alarm, and appears frightened). Yes, Miss—Miss 
—Miss— 

KATH. Kline. Kathryn—spelled with a K, please! 

PROF. C. {Reassuringly). Yes! And what can I have the 

pleasure of doing for you. Miss Kathryn,—and spelled with the K? 

KATH. Why,—I—I can’t get my program arranged to suit me 
at all. 

PROF. C. Well, now,—that’s bad! Very bad! Have you con¬ 
sulted— 

KATH. I ’ve asked everybody, sir! Everybody. 

PROF. C. Well, now, that’s worse,—much worse! And who has— 

KATH. {mournfully). Nobody, sir! Nobody! 

PROF. C. Well, now, that’s the worst,—quite the worst! And 
what seems to be the difficulty? 

KATH. You mean—what’s wTong? {He nods, suppressing a 
.smile). Why, my history and Latin call for the same period. 
Besides, Geometry is in the afternoon when I just can’t crowd it in, 
—and it doesn’t leave me one moment for art. Professor Cleveland, 
I just must have art! 

PROF. C. {puzzled). Art? 


4 


SOME CLASS 

KATH. (Nods emphatically). Art is all I have on earth to really 
love. 

PROF. C. Love? Art? But, Miss Kathryn, aren’t you rather— 
er—young? 

KATH. Young? Why, I’m fourteen! And I just love art most 
to pieces! 

PROF. C. But in another two or three years, perhaps— 

KATH. O no! no! I can’t wait for art,—not another day! I can’t 
—won’t try to live without art! 

PROF. C. I don’t know this Art you’re talking about, but— 

KATH. (not hearing). Don’t you think art is just too dear for 
anything? 

PROF. C. {coldly, becoming somewhat impatient). Why, I tell 
you I don’t— 

KATH. {frightened by his sternness, begins to weep). If I can’t 
have art. I’ll—I’ll—I’ll iust—{weeps). 

PROF. C. {rising in alarm). O Miss Kathryn, now, come, I—I— 

Enter CARRIE BELLE TYLER, in noisy haste, L. 

CARRIE BELLE. Say, Prof., what’s the row that I can’t get 
next to Gym.? 

PROF. C. Jim? 

CARRIE B. Sure—Gym! I can’t stand it to be in school at all 
without Gym! Why, last year, I spent two thirds of the time with 
Gym, and back home— 

PROF. C. {troubled). First, Art,—now Jim! {Shakeshead, puzzled.) 
I must look into this. Their parents— 

CARRIE B. Can’t I have more time to give Gym? I’ll die of— 

PROF. C. But—Jim Who? 

CARRIE B. {staring at him). What? 

Enter ARABELLA AYERS, L. 

ARABELLA. Mr. Cleveland,—excuse me, I mean professor ,— 
I’m so new here, but can you tell me the meaning of the word— 

CARRIE B. Ask Dick. He’s the guy to ask for that sort o’ dope! 

ARA. Dick? 

CARRIE B. Sure thing! What do you think he’s here for? Why 
next to Gym, Dick’s the best friend a school girl’s got—especially a 
Freshman. What’s your name? {FROY. C. sits and turns to desk). 

ARA. Arabella Araminta Arethusa Ayers! 

CARRIE. Whew! Some name that! Too big a mouthful for 
every-day use! We’ll call you “Airy” for short. Mine’s got a bell 
tied to its tail, too,—Carrie Belle Tyler! I don’t fall for it a bit! Too 
sissy! I ought to have been born a boy. Back home they call me 
Terrible Tyler, 

Carrie-Belle! 

Terrie-ble! 

Get the ring of the bell? 

ARA. Of course! I write poetry sometimes myself. 

CARRIER. You do? (ARA. nods). Gee Whiz! 


SOME CLASS 


5 


ARA. Beautiful things!—full of laughing skies, and weeping willows, 
and rippling rills, and all that sort of thing like the poetry books! 

CARRIE B. Gee again! Whiz some more! 

ARA. I’m writing a masterpiece now! 

(JARRIE B. A masterpiece? What in the world’s that? 

ARA. Why, a big thing!—A great poem! A—you know. “Thana- 
topsis” was Bryant’s masterpiece. “Evangeline” was Longfellow’s. 
“Snowbound” was Whittier’s. Get the idea? All the great poets 
wrote masterpieces. I began mine last month. It’s going to be very 
fine! 

CARRIE. W^ell Gee three times! Whiz three times three! I’m 
beat! 

KATH. Is slang allowed in this school? 

CARRIE {grinning). Sure thing! Help yourself! 

KATH. But I never— 

ARA. Me neither! 

CARRIE B. You’ll learn. It’s the only proper dope for school use! 
What you don’t fall for at first, ask Dick! 

AR™'| (Toe,ether). Dick? 

CARRIE. Sure! You see I was here all last year— 

ARA. Then you aren’t a Freshman? 

CARRIE. O yes! I’m one of the first year class,—but not so 
fresh as the rest of you. I didn’t pass. See? 

ARA^ I {Together., in horror.) Didn’t pass? 

CARRIE. Should say not! Flunked in everything! Too much of 
Gym, they said! But I don’t care a hang! School’s great,—if I can 
just get all I want of Gym! ( Walks to benches^ leaving girls alone. 
C.) 

KATH. {looking at ARA. questioningly). Who is this Jim she 
raves so about? 

ARA. Don’t know! Quite romantic, isn’t it? Think maybe I can 
work it into my masterpiece. 

CARRIE B. {walking hack to the^n). Who you kids going to 
vote for for president? 

KATH. Why, I don’t know one of the class from another. I can’t 
tell who’s Freshmen and who’s the others. 

CARRIE, You must be near-sighted. W^atch the Sophomores 
strut—like this! See the Seniors with their heads looking skyward 
like this—wouldn’t see a Freshie for the world! “O, are you there?” 
“Poor little worm! Be careful you don’t get stepped on!” That’s the 
Senior stunt! But the Juniors hang their heads and study, study— 
think, think—they’re the wise bunch allright. We Freshmen—that is, 
the new ones,—creep along so scared and shy, ’fraid some of the big 
kids’ll eat ’em. Don’t see how you can mix ’em. 

KATH. I haven’t any idea who to vote for anyway. {To ARA.) 
Have you? 


6 


SOME CLASS 


ARA. No. (TVj CARRIE). Are you running? 

CARRIE, {grinning). Not so fast as you might notice. No 
politics for mine! That Carleton Harris is the Candy Kid all right. 
I’m for him with both feet! 

PROF. C. {Whirls around. he speaks, KATH. and ARA. 
jump. CARRIE grins.) I have looked your program over very 
carefully, Miss—er—Kathryn, but 1 can’t see how^ you can spare— 

KATH. {eagerly). Art? O I can’t give up art! I’ll quit school 
first! 

PROF. C. {gravely). And your parents? What do they think— 

KATH. {innocently). Why, they think just as much of art as I 
do. They would say, ‘ Yes, Kathryn, give up all the world, if you 
have to, for art’s sweet sake!” 

CARRIE. Gee! You’re as crazy about that Art as I am about 
Gym, ain’t you? 

PROF. C. {scratching head). Peculiar! A sort of epidemic 
among the girls, perhaps. Art and Jim, and Dick! No such boys en¬ 
rolled here as far as I can recall! {To KATH.) You had better go 
to Miss Merrill with this program, Miss Kathryn, and ask her to help 
you. I must confess that it is quite beyond me. {Motions to C. eia 
trance.) You’ll find her in Class Room 106,—at the end of the lower 
hall, to the right. 

CARRIE. That’s where I hang out, Kathryn. Fall in with me, 
and I’ll steer you straight. {Exits C., followed by KATH.) 

PROF. C. And now. Miss— 

ARA. Arabella Araminta Arethusa Ayers! 

PROF. C. {si/ppressmg a. smile.) O yes! Miss Ayers. 

ARA. I don’t want to take so much mathematics and science, 
professor. Do I have to? 

PROF. C. Two years of each required, if you wish to graduate. 

ARA. But I won’t have any time to write my masterpiece. Don’t 
you ever make exceptions—in a straight literary course? 

PROF. G. Never! The rule is fixed. {Turns again to desk.) 

ARA Flumph! {Flounces out L. At entrance, meets JACK, 
and they dance hack and forth several times, trying to dodge one another. 
At last, he sighs deeply, and stands still, allowing her to go out.) 

Enter JACK, L. 

JACK. Some girl that! Dancing lessons on the regular course 
Prosessor? 

VB..OF. C. {whirling to face him.) What’s that? O it’s you, is it, 
Jack? Getting settled? 

JACK. Pretty well fixed, I guess. Not so much like a cat in a 
strange barn. Thought I’d hand in my program and get it O. K.’d. 
{Hands paper to PROF. C.) 

PROF. C. Good! {Takes paper, looking it over.) What time do 
you Freshmen hold your election? 

JACK. In about an hour. And that’s one thing I wanted to ask 
you. Do you think Douglas Knight is as good as (.’arleton Harris? 

PROF. Ch {uneasily). As good as— 

JACK {quickly). For our president, I mean! 


SOME CLASS 


7 


PROF. C. Ah, my boy, I never express any opinion in class politics 
Every class must settle all these matters in its own way. 

JACK. But, professor, we’re just kids. How— 

Enter LEROY, R. 

PROF. C. {greeting him with relief.) Come right in, Leroy. Jack, 
have you met Mr. West—Leroy West, I believe. This is Jack Reese, 
Roy. {They shake hands awkwardly, boy-fashion.) He is enrolled in 
your course. 

LEROY. Rotten course, kid—the scientific dope! Take it from 
me. 

JACK. How so? 

LEROY. Too much of everything except the one thing a fellow 
wants. 

JACK. Too awfully too-too, eh? Too coarse a course! Too fine 
for fine! 

LEROY. Say, are you trying to be funny? {Starts R.) 

JACK {humbly). Not guilty! {Stops LEROY). But say, kid, who 
you going to vote for? 

Enter CARLETON HARRIS, C. 

LEROY {nodding his head towards him significantly). Him! 

JACK. Good! same here! {They walk R. sit bench, talking politics 
in whisper.) 

CARLETON. It’s 10:30 now, Professor Cleveland, and if you’re 
going over with me to see Mr. Whitcomb, we’d better start. You see, 
our election— 

PROF. C. {rising, nervously). Yes, yes, Carleton. I declare I had 
forgotten— must you— 

CARL. I just must crowd in four solid years of science some way. 
If the Board of Education— 

PROF. C. Oh, they’ll be able to arrange, I know! It’s only— 
(looks despairingly at work piled on desk) —I’m so busy, and— 

Enter MISS MERRILL, C. 

MISS M. Did you send for me. Professor? 

PROF. C. Yes, Miss Merrill. Won’t you please attend the office 
while I am away? I have an engagement. Must go! And all the 
Freshmen need so much help in enrolling, you know! {Searches papers 
on desk busily.) 

CARLETON {walks Id., to boys.) How about it, boys? Got your 
minds made up? 

JACK {glancing at LEROY uneasily.) Not altogether. 

CARL. I’m not making any bids for votes. Don’t care to have 
any electioneering done for me. But if I get it—I’ll,—well, I’ll always 
play fair! 

LEROY {rising). That’s some square! {shakes hand.) 

^ACK {rising). Put it there! {Shakes hand). I’m for you! 

MISS M. {who has been watching PROF. C. helplessly). You’ll be 
back— 


8 


SOME CLASS 


PROF. C. {vaguely). Sometime! {Starts L.) Come, Carleton. (Exit, 
L. with CARL.) 

MISS M. {at desk). Do you boys wish any help? 

JACK. Not me! I’m off! (Goes L.) Thank you just the same, 
Miss Merrill. 

MISS M. {To LEROY). And you? Did you want anything done? 

LEROY {scowling fiercely at his jwogram.) I want—everything 
done! But you—can’t do it! 

MISS M. {sweetly). Try me! Come and sit down at the desk, 
and let’s have a look at that program. (Sits, facing him.) 

LEROY {after a slight hesitation.) I—er—no, thank you. Miss 
Merrill. I’ll just leave this thing with you, and take a run around 
among the kids before election. Want to help Carleton Harris out a 
little. Then, if you aren’t too busy to help me— 

MISS M. All right. Business first, of course. {He exits L. At 
the same time’.) 

Enter DOUGLAS KNIGHT, R. 

DOUGLAS. Professor Cleveland! 

MISS M. {rising). The professor isn’t in just now, Douglas. Is 
there anything I can do for you? 

DOUG. O no. Miss Merrill. I’ll wait, thank you. My folks 
wouldn’t like to have me take help from anybody but— 

MISS M. {raising eye-brows in amusement.) I see! All right. 
Just have a seat over there in the “Ahem Corner.” {Points to benches, 
R.) 

DOUG. Ahem Corner? 

MISS M. Yes,—right there! We always call that the “Ahem Cor¬ 
ner” because everybody gets so uneasy and restless waiting their turn 
with ProfessorCleveland. {She turns to desk.) . 

DOUG. Ahem! {sits R.) 

Enter BART BEEMER, C. 

BART. Prof, in? 

MISS M. No. What do you want? 

BART, Know where he’s at? 

MISSM. No. What do you want? 

BART. Know when he’s cornin’ back? 

MISS M. No. What do you want? 

BART. Ain’t ye got no notion what he’s doin’? 

MISSM. No. What do you want? 

BART. Prof! {Exits hastily.) 

DOUG, {scornfully). Who’s that rude, rough fellow. Miss Merrill? 

MISSM. {over shoulder). He? Why, that’s Bart Beemer, our 
janitor—a fine fellow,—one of the permanent fixtures here. 

DOUG. Will the students—er—have to—er—mix with him? 

MISSM. {whirling to face him.) Mix with—Bart? Why, certain¬ 
ly not! But the most of the students are only too glad to. He’s the 
pal of all the boys—the knight errant of all the girls,—the right hand 
of all the teachers,—and a jolly good fellow among us all. The High 
School could hardly exist without Bart. 


SOME CLASS 


9 


DOUG. Queer taste, I call it. I’m sure my folks— 

Enter DUDE and BABE, L., hand in hand. 

DUDE. Come on. Babe. 

BABE. You go first, DUDE. 

DUDE. No,—you! 

BABE. Well, then, you’ll have to do the talking. (Leads slowly to 
desk, both fingering skirt, and acting very embarrass^.) 

MISS M. And who are the little ladies? Newcomers? 

DUDE (speaks as if by rote). Please, Miss Teacher, we’re new 
scholars from the country! I got my Eighth Grade certificate—I 
mean, diploma,—and so’s she! See! (Hands diploma.) Give her yours, 
Babe. (BABE obeys.) I’m Dude, and she’s Babe. 

MISS M. (smiling). Dude? Babe? 

BABE. Yes, ma’am! Rut them ain’t— 

DUDE. She means those aren’t our really, truly names. I’m Mina, 
and she’s Nina. But everybody says Dude and Babe. It’s more 
natural. 

MISS M. Twins? (They nod emphatically.) 

DOUG. Green! 

DUDE (whirling around to face him). Why, how did you know? 
It’s “Green” all right,—Mina and Nina Green. But we never saw 
that fellow before, did we. Babe? 

MISS M. Where do you live, Mina? 

DUDE. I live with Babe. 

MISS M. (to BABE, patiently). And where do you live? 

BABE. I live with Dude. 

MISS M. (with strong effort at self-control). And where do you 
both live? 

DUlSl [ (frightened). Why—er—together! 

BABE. With mother! 

MISS M. (resignedly). Of course, my dears. Of course! (Thinks 
a minute.) Wait till I get some registry slips. (Whirls back to desk, 
searching desk) 

DUDE. Ain’t she got lovely hair? 

BABE. And ain’t her neck pretty? 

MISS M. (whirling to face them.) Now, I guess we’re ready for 
business. How old are you? 

BABE. Same age as Dude. 

MISSM. Well, Dude. 

DUDE (in grieved tone.) Why, I told you,—we are twins. Course 
I’m same age as Babe if we are twins. Twins always— 

MISS M. Yes, but just how many years old is that? 

DUDE. Why, I’m most fourteen. So’s Babe! 

MISS M. I see! You’d better fill out these blanks, to be enrolled 
in proper form. Sit right over here. Professor Cleveland will be in 
by and by. 


10 SOME CLASS 

BABE, {frightened) O, we don’t have to see him, do we? 

DUDE. Is he—cross? 

MISS M. Never in the world! {Pulls two chairs to desk and seats 
t}i€ qztIs^ 

BABE. You’ll have to talk to him, Dude. 

Enter HANNAH MOORE, L. 

HANNAH. Is Professor Cleveland in? 

MISS M. No, Hannah. Is anything wrong? 

HANNAH It’s my program. Miss Merrill. 

MISS M. So I suppose. That seems to be the Freshman’s great¬ 
est trouble just now. The first week is usually—difficult. 

HAN. Yes’m. I want more of science, more mathematics, more 
history, more everything. Miss Merrill. I want to learn—just all 
there is to know in all the world. There isn’t enough here to— 

MISS M. But the days are short, Hannah, and this program looks 
crowded now. I’m afraid you’re undertaking too much. 

HAN. O no, Miss Merrill. Why, I must learn—lots and lots! 

MISS M. Of course. But you mustn’t overwork. 

HAN. No danger of that. But this—it isn’t enough! {St'adies 
program, then looks appealingly at MISS M.) Won’t you help me to 
fix it so I can get some history here,—botany there,—and m.aybe 
astronomy— 

MISS M. Astronomy’s a Junior study, Hannah. 

HAN. But I can— 

MISS M. {firmly). Not till the third year. 

HAN. Then- 

Miss M. Perhaps you can squeeze your botany in here, but--it 
will mean a great deal of home work. 

HAN. But I love that. Miss Merrill. I— 

MISS M. Well, we’ll see what we can do. You had better wait 
to see Professor Cleveland. 

Enter VIOLA VERE, R. 

VIOLA. Is this the office? 

MISS M. Yes. 

VIOLA. Professor Cleveland’s office? 

MISS M. Exactly. 

DOUG. Some peach, that! 

VI. I’ve been rambling around through the halls for hours and 
hours. They told me to take an elevator to the roof, and turn to the 
right and follow my nose till I found a glass door with a red curtain. 

MISSM. Who told you? 

VIOLA. A big boy out on the campus. 

MISS M. Just a Senior joke, my dear. 

VI. I just wanted to find out if we had our class election today. 

MISS M. How about it, Hannah? Your class has its election this 
afternoon, doesn’t it? 

HAN. I think so. {Looks calendar on ivall). Wednesday—yes. 
{Walks R. studying program. MISS M. returns to desk. VIOLA 
folloivs HANNAH.) 


SOME CLASS 


11 


VI. You don’t seem crazj'^ about it. 

HAN. {Sits bench.) No, I can’t. I don’t know anybody at all. 

VI. {Sits beside her). Neither do I—yet. So I don’t care much 
w’ho— 

DOUG. {Rlses^ stands in front of girls). Then of course you’d 
just as soon vote for me, hadn’t you, girls? 

HAN. {Looking him over). Why, I—I—it don’t make any differ¬ 
ence to me. You would do as well as anybody. 

VI. What’s your name? (DUDE and BABE at desk listen over 
shoidder.) 

DOUG. Douglas Knight. 

VI. {TLemding him her tablet). Write it down here till I get 
acquainted. 

HAN. {while he writes name ivith large flourish). And which 
are you going to be? 

DOUG. Why—er—I expect to be Class President. 

VI. Won’t that be nice? (DUDE and BABE whisper together, 
then rise.) 

HAN. I suppose you’ll do. 

DOUG. Of course! My dad’s president of the B. R. and N. Rail¬ 
road Association. I know just how to run things. (DUDE and 
BABE walk toward them, hand in hand.) 

VI. Now, won’t that be nice? 

DUDE. Do we vote, too,—Babe and me? I mean,—Babe and I? 

DOUG. Of course! If you vote for me! 

BABE. But we don’t know you, do we. Dude? 

DUDE. Hush, Babe. We don’t know anybody yet, do we? I 
didn’t know girls could vote! 

VI. {nudging HAN.) Green! 

DUDE. Wdio told you? Dude and Babe Green! {They bow 
comically.) Who are you? 

VI. Me? 

BABE. Uh-huh! 

VI. You mean, what is my name? 

DUDE. Course! Ain’t that United States? 

VI. Why, I’m Viola Vere! 

BABE {sitting). Ain’t she pretty. Dude? 

DUDE {sittinq). So’s her name. 

VI. {rising and standing in front of them, beside DOUG.) Say, 
which of you is which? 

DUDE. I’m Dude! . 

BABE. And I’m Babe! 


VI. Let’s sec. {Points to BABE.) 
DUDE. No, I’m Dude! 

BABE. No, she’s Dude. 

VI. {Points to Dude). You’re Babe! 
DUDE. No, she’s Babe!) 

BABE. No, I’m Babe! j 


You’re Dude. 
{Together) 


{Together), 


12 


SOME CLASS 


DOUG. One’s Dude, and one’s Babe! 

VI. One’s Babe, and one’s Dude! 

DOUG. I give it up! 

VI. How does your mother tell you apart? 

BABE. She don’t! 

DUDE. She tells us together. 

DOUG. What? 

DUDE. She just calls “Twins!” 

BABE. And we both come a-running! 

DOUG. Great scheme! We’ll have to remember that! When I'm 
president. I’ll— 

VI. {Sitting . who has been studying all the time). Aren’t 

they the cutest things? 

HAN. {absently). I—guess—so! I wonder if I can’t squeeze my 
Algebra into the Fourth Period? 

VI. Don’t you just hate it? 

HAN. Hate what?—Algebra? Mercy! love it! 

VI. Love Algebra? {Long sigh of amazement.) Why, I never 
heard of such a thing 
DOUG. You’re a freak! 

VI. I wouldn’t take it at all if I didn’t have to. I just want Eng¬ 
lish and Literature and Music and Expression, and— 

DOUG. A little Domestic Science, perhaps! 

VI. O no, no! I’m never going to do any housework. 

LVfer CARRIE BELLE TYLER arid DOLLA" DENTON, L. 
CARRIE B. Say, kids, where’s Dick? 

DOUG. Don’t know the gentleman. 

VI. Dick Who? 

CARRIE {giggling). Why, Dick Webster,—the guy that made 
words! 

ALL {in various tones.) Oh! 

CARRIE {goes to dictionary, followed by DOLLY). Here he is. 
Good boy Dick! He and Gym are my pals! {Opens dictionary). 
How do you spell “sorority,” and what does it mean? 

DOUG. I don’t know how to spell it, but it’s a girls’ “frat.” 
DOLLY {over shoulder). What’s a “frat.?” 

DOUG. Why, a secret society,—in school,—for boys only! 
CARRIE {over shoulder). Gee! don’t you know a lot for a Fresh¬ 
man? 

DOUG, {proudly). Ought to! My brother’s at Yale, and my sis¬ 
ter’s at Vassar! 

VI. What’s about it, Carrie Belle? 

CARRIE. About what? {Comes toward them, followed by DOLLY). 
VI. Why, the—sore-ore-of-tea, —or whatever you said? 


13 


SOME CLASS 

DOLLY {at center of room, all watching her). Why, you see, 
Carrie Belle and I were coming through the hall to see Professor 
Cleveland, and we met a big girl with a class pin on, and she smiled 
at us so big and proud, like this,—and looked down on us,—so,—just 
as if she owned the school, and carried life insurance on all the teach¬ 
ers. “Are you young ladies going to take Domestic Science?” she 
said. Young ladies, mind you! and just like that she said it. Carrie 
Belle said, {giggles) “Nix on the grub!” But I said, as politely as I 
knew how,—young-lady-like, you know,—“Why, yes, I am, if I can 
work it in without cutting out dramatics! For you see, I’m going to 
be an actress!” “In the Movies?” she said. “Not me!” I said. She 
looked at me again as though I was a teeny weeny worm she had half 
a notion to step on, and said, “Well, Infant, if you take Domestic 
Science, you must join our sor-or-ity. It’s just to cook the Freshies 
until they ain’t quite so raw! It’s called ‘Taka Bita Pi.’ ” And then 
she laughed and ran off, and another girl said, “Be careful and don’t 
let the upper classes haze you, Baby!” What’s haze? Don’t she 
mean “daze?” 

DOUG. No, hazing is rough treatment the old classes give to the 
new ones to get ’em broke in. It’s not allowed in High Schools. 
Don’t be afraid! 

Cx4RRIE {Eyes him scornfully). Afraid? Who you talking to? 
If you was addressing me, you’ve got the wrong address. You’d bet¬ 
ter look it up in Dick—under p’s and q’s! 

DOUG. (To CARRIE and DOLLY). Have you girls made up 
your minds how to vote in the election? 

CARRIE. Gee! Think we’re fools? Any simp knows enough to 
write a name on a piece of paper and drop it in a hat! 

DOUG. But what name are you going to write? That’s the thing 
that matters. 

CARRIE. Don’t tell him, Dolly. That’s our biz. 

DOUG. But you see— 

CARRIE. I sure won’t write yours, so it’s none of your— 

DOUG. But why? 

CARRIE. That’s my biz., too! 

DOUG. But I know just how to be president. 

CARRIE. Humph! Think Carleton Harris don’t? 

DOUG. Don’t see how he can, as well as I do. You see my father— 

CARRIE. Don’t see your dad in it at all! 

DOUG. What? Why, my father is the man who— 

DOLLY. x4ny way, he’s not the one who’s running for our class 
president! 

DOUG. But his son is. 

VI. There’s a difference, it seems to me! 

CARRIE. Just what you’re a mind to notice—around the edges! 
DOUG. But I— 


14 


SOME CLASS 


Enter JACK, C. 

JACK. See here, everybody!—what I found pinned to my program: 

(Reads indignantly:) “You dear little, sweet little, cute little scrub. 
With your skirts to your dimpled knee! 

You smily-faced, shyly-faced, piely-faced cub, 
With your green eyes, and babyish glee! 

Your innocent features are surely a joke, 
Your whole class our laughter inspires! 

But still we are quietly watching your smoke— 
For it’s new blood our High School requires.’' 

BABE. What’s a scrub? 

DOUG. You! 

BABE. Me? 

DUDE. Babe? 

DOUG. Sure,—we,—all of us! It’s just higher class slang for 
Freshmen! 

JACK. We’ll show them what some scrubs are made of, won’t we? 
Enter LEROY. C. 

LEROY. All Freshmen called to Classroom 321 for election! Only 
ten minutes to make up your mind who’s who! (All but HANNAH 
rise.) 

VI. Come, Hannah! 

HAN. O go on without me! I don’t care who’s it! 

DOLLY. O, but you must come. We must all vote. Besides, we 
have to pick out our colors, and our flower, and get up a yell, and a 
motto, and—O just everything! (HANNAH rises, reluctantly.) 

CARRIE. That’s right. Be a sport! 

LEROY. Come, everybody. (At C.) 

DOUG. (To CARRIE). Well, I hope you’ll think better of— 
(Goes C.) 

CARRIE (follows him,C.) I’ll have to think a lot better before— 

DOUG. Who you going to vote for, Leroy? 

LEROY. The best fellow, of course! (Steps out of entrance to let 
him pass). 

DOUG. Pshaw! I hoped you vote for me! (Exits C., folloioed by 
CARRIE.) 

JACK, (confidentially, after watching T)OVG. out). Vote for Car- 
leton Harris, kids. He’s the boy we want—square clear through! 

LEROY. You bet! He’s the real thing! 

BABE (uncertainly). But this other fellow—Douglas What’s-his- 
Name is awful smart and bright and quick and good, and knows 
most everything! 

JACK. How do you know he is? 

DUDE (innocently). Why, he told us so, himself! 

VI. I’m going to vote for him, too. He’s got such pretty eyes. 

JACK (disgusted). O Jemimy! 

DOLLY. I’m not! Didn’t you ever notice the cute way Carle- 
ton’s hair curls behind his ear? I’m going to vote for him. 

LEROY. Some election. Jack! (Girls pass out, C. Boys follow. 
MISS M. alone). 


SOME CLASS 


15 


Enter PROF. C. with CARLETON, L. 

PROF. C. I’m certainly glad we could arrange it for you, Carl- 
eton. And riow you’re just in time to get to your classroom in time 
for the organization. You’re running for president, I hear. 

CARL. Yes,—some of the boys think I’ll do; and I’ll certainly try 
to do the right thing by the class if they put me in. But Douglas 
Knight’s a good fellow,—and his father’s rich,—and I’m not sure he 
couldn’t do better by the class— 

PROF. C. Never mind him! It’s Carleton Harris you have to 
think of I If the Class wants you, and elects you,—it’s your place to 
give them every ounce of yourself in loyal, enthusiastic service. 

CARL. Be sure I will, professor! (Shakes hands. Exits C.) 

PROF. C. That’s a good lad, Miss Merrill. In fact, it seems to 
me we have an exceptionally bright crowd of Freshmen this year. 

MISS M. And if I remember correctly, you made the same remark 
last year, and the year before last, and the year before that, and— 

PROF. C. Maybe I did! JVIaybe I did! It shows how the world’s 
improving—each year an advance on the year before! This is a most 
promising class. 

MISS M. If they ever get settled. 

PROF. C. Oh, of course, it takes time, Miss Merrill. Everything 
is a matter of growth. But this class certainly has some splendid 
material for successful and useful men and women. 

Lauqhter and Applause out C. 

CLASS, (out C.) Carleton Harris! Carleton Harris! 

PROF. C. I guess Carleton’s elected! (MISS M. rises). 

Enter JACK, with CARLETON hy arm, followed by CLASS. 

JACK. Let me introduce our Freshman President, Professor Cleve¬ 
land. Mr. Carleton Harris, 

PROF. C. (Shaking hands). I congratulate you, my boy ! 

MISS M. (Shaking hands). And I, too. 

CARL. Thank you, sir! and you, Miss Merrill! And—thank you all. 

CLASS Speech! Speech! 

CARL. O, I can’t speech, fellows. But I’ll try to be a good president. 

CARRIE. Some president, eh? (All clap). 

JACK, (leading VI. np, ivho hangs head bashfully). Now, 
Professor, I’d like to introduce our Vice President, Miss Viola Vere. 

PROF. C. I congratulate you, too. (Shaking hands). 

MISS M. And so do I. 

VI. Thank you. I don’t know what I’ll be supposed to do, nor how 
in the world to do it, but I’ll do what I’m told,—if I can. (All clop). 

JACK, (leading HAN). And our secretary. Miss Hannah Moore. 

PROF. C. Good! Good! (Shaking hands). 

MISS M. (Shaking hands). I know you will be a splendid secre¬ 
tary, Hannah. 

HAN. I said I’d try—if it wouldn’t take time from my studies. 

CARRIE. Some secretary, all right! (All clap), 

JACK, (leads DOUG). Our treasurer, Mr. Douglas Knight. 


16 


SOME CLASS 


PROF. C. A very responsible position, Douglas. 

MISS M. One of trust. 

DOUG. O it doesn’t amount to much. I could do a lot better in 
a bigger place; but—anyway, I won’t skip to Canada with the funds. 

CARRIE. Not yet! {All laugh). 

. JACK, {leading LEROY). Our athletic captain, Mr. Leroy West. 

PROF. C. Splendid! 

MISS M. Athletics is a very necessary part of High School life. 

CARRIE. That’s why I love Gym! 

LEROY. Well, I’m bound we’ll win some honors while we’re here 
to keep our name in school memory. I’m in it for all there is in me. 

CARRIE. Some Captain! {All clap). 

PROF. C. How about yourself. Jack? 

JACK, {sheepishly). O you see, professor, there weren’t offices 
enough to go around, and so— 

CARL, {hand on JACK^8 shoulder). Nevertheless, Professor, we 
made this modest boy our yell leader, to show us how to make a noise 
in the world. We haven’t got our yell yet, but we’ll soon get it fixed 
to suit us. Then, if we’re not heard from, it’ll be up to Jack! Our 
colors are white and green—like’ em? 

MISS M. They’re beautiful. 

PROF C. Immensely. 

CARL. The green stands for what we are now. The white for 
wffiat we are to grow into. The green is our Freshmen condition— 
green but growing! The white is the far away Senior glory at wffiich 
v/e aim. 

CARRIE. Some class to us! 

CARL. Our class flower’s the White Climber,—a rare and delicate 
rose. The buds are green, but it gradually unfolds to a pure white, 
ever climbing up to the very top of the wall. Our motto is like the 
motto of the flower— “Never say die!” 

PROF. C. All very, very fine, my boy, and I’m proud of you all. 
You’ve caught the spirit of our school already, and become inoculated 
with her highest, purest ideals. And you’re sure to develop into citi¬ 
zens of power and real value to the community you settle in, as well 
as to the world at large. I hope you won’t all be scientists. We don’t 
want a world of scientists. Some of you will have to make biscuits. 
Some will have to eat them. Some will have to show the world how to 
eat them, and still live. Now you are a regularly organized class, with 
a full set of capable officers, and all of your programs— 

ALL. {gripping programs firmly in sudden remembrance). Mj'’ pro¬ 
gram ! ( They crowd around him like a swarm of bees). 

HAN. I wanted to see you, professor, about— 

DOLLY. Can you help me fix— {Each cuts the other off quick. Be 
very rapid in this, hut distinct in expression, each voice endeavoring to 
rise above and drown out the other, Care must be taken to cut in at ex¬ 
actly the proper cue.) 

LEROY. There’s got to be some more room found for my— 

ARA. I don’t want so much of— 


SOME CLASS 17 

DUDE {leading BABE hy hand). Please, professor, Pm Dude, 
and this is Babe, and we want— 

VI. I just must get rid of this— 

DOUG. There’s been some mistake in my— 

CARRIE. Can’t I squeeze Gym in here— 

PJEIOF. C. {horrified). What? 

KATH. Professor Cleveland, I was first. I’ve been wanting to ask 
you about Art— 

PROF. C. Art again! 

CARRIE. We call it plain “Drawing” at High! 

JACK. And my program— 

KATH. But I was first, and I— 

CARRIE. I must have more time for Gym! 

DOLLY. All the girls want Gym! 

KATH. They say gymnasium, though, at some schools! 

DOUG. None but Freshmen! 

CARRIE. Same dear old Gym, anyway! 

CARL. I must try to take— 

BART looks in at C. 

BART. Mercy on us! it’s a regular hive of bees! {Exits.) 

PROF. C. {Holds up hand for silence. All grow still.) Was there 
ever anything like this? Yet there are those. Miss Merrill, who insist 
that a teacher’s life is a bed of thornless roses. Students, I’m here 
to help you—every one of you,—but I can’t attend to you all at once. 
Please take seats over there— {points R. All turn to see). 

MISS M. In “Ahem Corner.” 

PROF. C. And Miss Merrill and I will try to look into your diffi¬ 
culties, and adjust them for you. But remember, I’ve only one head, 
and I simply can’t manage to think of more than one of you at a time. 
Your enthusiasm is beautiful, and I’m proud of it, and of you, but it 
must be one at a time! 

ALL {each eager to be first). But, professor— 

PROF. C. {firmly). One at a time! 

ALL. But, professor— 

PROF. C. Who was first? 

ALL. {emphatically). Me. 

PROF C. {troubled, scratches head, in perplexity). I see I must take 
you alphabetically.— 

ARA. Here’s where I shine! 

PROF. C. And proceed in systematic order. Be seated, please! 
{All scramble for seats.) And remember,—one at a time! 

CARRIE. Some Class to us! 

Scrambling for seats, till fall of 
CURTAIN. 

ACT 11. 

Scene: A Class-Room, arranged to suit taste. Nothing but a few 
chairs essential. 

DOLLY DENTON discovered, with play-book in hand, studying 
positions. 

DOLLY. Chair here. Table here. Lounge here. Lights low. 


18 


SOME CLASS 


Then I ought to stand about here. (Reads). “Enter Lady Clara, 
L. U. E.” Let’s see, that means Left Upper Entrance— (goes^ right, 
stops at R. U. -E.)—about here! O no, no! What’s the matter with my 
head? (Feels head, curiously). All there,—but,—nobody home, I guess! 
(Goes left.) Here’s where 1 come in. (Reads.) “Takes position near 
center front,”— (walks center-front) —about here, I suppose. There 
now, I’m ready for business. This Dramatics is certainly great! Why 
don’t the rest come? Dwell! I should worry! I’ll practice my part— 
ahem,—my lines, —anyway! (Recites) “Twenty-eight long and weary 
years since last I stood within these castle walls!” 

Enter BART BEEMER, C., searching floor. 

DOLLY. “Out of my presence, dark shadow of the haunting 
past!” (BART starts off, frightened.) “Out of my sight—” 

BART. I’m going! No need of all that fuss! But— 

DOLLY (screams). Mercy on me! (Turns quickly to face him.) 

BART. Say, have you got eyes plumb in the back of your head? 

DOLLY. O Bart! you frightened me! I was just rehearsing. 

BART. Re-hearsing? Is that what you called it? 

DOLLY. Sure! Our Sophomore Play, you know. And believe me, 
Bart, I’m some leading lady. It’s a regular dream. 

BART. Must be a nightmare! Sounds pretty—er—strong,—in 
spots,—what I heard of it. More of a scream than a— 

DOLLY. O Bart! How can you? 

BART. Can’t! ’Twas you making the racket! 

DOLLY. O Bart! it’s just lovely to be a Sophomore! 

BART. Must be! Sounds pretty—er—rough—in spots—when the 
Freshmen are around. (Resumes search of floor, corners, etc.) 

DOLLY. O well! we have to pay somebody off for what we suffered 
last year. It’ll be their turn to get even next year. See? 

Enter DUDE, C. 

DOLLY. O Babe, come here! 

DUDE. I’m not Babe. I’m Dude. (DVTTE, is decidedly out of sorts.) 

DOLLY. Look just like Babe. 

DUDE. Think so? 

DOLLY. Of course, silly! Where is Babe? I want to ask her 
what she thinks of that costume we planned for her part in— 

DUDE (loftily). Babe always thinks what I think. 

DOLLY. Well, then, that’s easy! What do you think? 

DUDE. I think what Babe thinks. 

DOLLY. Then what do— 

DUDE. Babe isn’t going to be in your old play, anyway! 

DOLLY. Why, yes she is. She’s going to be the maid. 

DUDE, Isn’t! 

DOLLY. Is! 

DUDE. Maybe you know! But she isn’t! She won’t be in any¬ 
thing without me! 

DOLLY. But, Dude, there aren’t two parts near enough alike— 

DUDE. Write one in, then! 

DOLLY. Can’t! But Babe will— 

DUDE. Won’t! 

DOLLY. Must! 


SOME CLASS 19 

DUDE. Shan’t! {Flounces owt C). 

DOLLY. Humph! I’m going to write a play myself for next 
year,—then maybe everybody’ll be suited. What in the world are 
you looking for, Bart? 

BART, {rises from knees, scratching head). Don’t know! It’s 
something somebody went and lost in that Freshman class-room. 
They wrote it out on the board for me to find, and I copied it down 
on this here paper, and I’ve been looking everywhere. See! {shows 
paper, reading slowly.) “Find—the—Greatest—Common—Divisor.” 

DOLLY {laughs). O Bart! if you aren’t the limit! 

BART. Me? Why, I didn’t take the pesky thing! I never even 
saw it! I don’t see why I have to take the blame for every consarned 
thing them kids lose. 

I don’t even know what it looks like! If I found a dozen “Common 
Di-vi-sors” running around loose, how could I tell which was great¬ 
est? (DOLLY As). Maybe it’s funny! Have you got it? 

DOLLY. Me? Why, Bart! Do I look as if I had a Greatest 
Common Divisor in my pocket? 

BART. No, you don’t, but— {scratches head). 

DOLLY. Ask the Freshmen! Ask every scrub you see. One of 
’em’s got it, I know. We used to use it occasionly when we were 
Freshmen,—months and months ago,—but we took precious good 
care not to lose it. It’s valuable! 

BART. Thank you. I thought it must be worth a lot when they 
made such a tarnal fuss about it. I’ll go hunt the Freshmen right 
away. {Exits L.) 

DOLLY. Do! 

Enter BABE, C, 

DOLLY. See here, Dude, you didn’t tell me— 

BABE. I’m not Dude. I’m Babe! 

DOLLY. Why, you said you were Dude a minute ago. 

BABE. Why, Dolly Denton, I haven’t seen you before since roll 
call. Where is Miss Merrill? 

DOLLY. Search me! 

BABE. Don’t want you! Want Miss Merrill! 

DOLLY. Where’s Dude? 

BABE. Dude’s mad. 

DOLLY. What at? 

BABE. You. Me. Everybody. 

DOLLY. What for? 

BABE. ’Cause you left her out of the play. But Miss Merrill 
says she can fix a place for both of us— 

DOLLY. Bet she can’t! 

BABE {ivith conviction). She can. {Starts out C.) 

DOLLY. But say, Dude— {no notice from BABE.) I mean, Babe! 
(BABE turns.) Why don’t you two keep yourselves properly labeled? 

BABE {calmly). We do! I’m Babe. She’s Dude! {Exits C.) 

DOLLY. Heavenly Twins, indeed! No wonder the boys call them 
“The Angels.” 

Enter LEROY, C. in great excitement. 

LEROY. Hurry in, fellows! No time to hang around the halls. 


20 SOME CLASS 

8 tud 3 ^ing the Bulletin Boards. 

Enter CARRIE BELLE, C., followed by CARLETON, JACK, 
DOUGLAS. The boys are all in football suits. The girls in mid¬ 
dies. Girls carry horns. 

CARRIE. Hurrah for us! 

(Enter VIOLA, KATH., ARABELLA, HANNAH, DUDE, and 
BABE, the first three from right, the last three from left.) 

DOLLY. O Roy! you look just swell in football togs! 

CARRIE. Don’t they all? Gee! it makes me just wild to be a 
boy! O well! I’ve always got Gym! 

LEROY. Now, boys, we’re off! And remember, it’s not every 
Sophomore Class that gets the chance to play the Seniors in open field! 

CARRIE. It’s not every Sophomore bunch that’s got the nerve 
to challenge a Senior team, nor the sand to make good! We have! 
Make ’em a speech, Roy! 

ROY. Speech? Me? Not guilty! 

DOLLY. Oh if I were but a boy! 

ROY, What would you say if you were? 

DOLLY. I’ll show you! (Mounts chair.) Boys, Classmates, Soph¬ 
omores, Members of the Football Team,—this is the big moment of 
all your lives! You are about to enter into the fiercest battle of 
your High School Course!—the greatest honor ever so far offered to a 
Sophomore team in the history of this school. You are going to fight 
the “grave and reverend”—ahem!—Seniors for the championship of 
the school. You have stood out against the Sophomores of other 
schools! You have conquered the Juniors of our own campus! You 
have scorned to accept the challenge of the raw and verdant Infant 
Class. Only this one world is left for you to conquer. We who are 
but girls, and cannot play your manly games will watch you every 
step of the way,—will follow you,—shout for you,—root for you,-— 
until from the bleachers, the walks, the very ground beneath your 
feet, will arise the thrilling yells that proclaim, you victors! Go forth 
then, boys, and bear our colors bravely. Hold high our class motto, 
“No surrender!” Whatever the odds seem to be against you, grit 
your teeth, and plaj^ the game, and play it fair and square. Rem¬ 
ember this as my one last word;—The Sophomore Class expects each 
boy this day to do his duty! Somebody help me down! 

CARL, (helping her down). In the name of the class I thank you, 
Dolly. (She bows.) 

LEROY. And in the name of the 7 thank you, Dolly! (She 

bows) 

JACK. And now, listen,—all of you! I want some yelling done to¬ 
day that will show everybody that the Sophomore Class is alive! Line 
up here a minute and let me put you through a course of sprouts! 
(They line up, girls in front of hoys). Now, everybody yell! (He 
simids in front, wcivinq his arins to mark time, luhile they yell). 

CLASS. (All) Rah! Rah! Rah! Make a fuss! 

Sophomores! Boom! Bah! Toss and Tuss! 

Y-e-a! Bo! Some Class to us! 

{The '’^Yecf' is drawn out long and high—the ^^bo'*'' drop)- 

ping hard aiid strong). 


21 


SOME CLASS 

JACK, (m cZisgwsO. Mercy! Are you all dead? Louder! {They 
repeat). More spirit, kids! Again, now, and put some pep into it! 
{They repeat). Well, that’s some better. But none too spicy yet? 

LEROY, {uneasily). But the rest of the team is on the grounds 
already. Jack. We must have some snappy signal practice before— 

JACK. I suppose so. But don’t blame me if the Seniors think 
we’re all dead ones. 

LEROY. Hurry up, boys. {Exits C. runninq). 

CARL. Coming, girls? 

JACK. You bet! Every fan must root, root, root! 

CARRIE. Sure! And every horn must toot, toot, toot! {Girls 
blow three blasts on horns. Boys exeunt, C. running). Come on, 
girls! 

ARA. Pretty soon! But I really ought not to take the time. I 
don’t seem to begetting along very fast on my masterpiece this year. 

KATH. Don’t we have some rehearsing to do? 

DOLLY, {di'yly). I understood so. But nobody came except me. 
I couldn’t act all the parts. And now the boys— 

CARRIE. Well isn’t athletics more important than dramatics? 

KATH. Not to everybody. 

Enter MISS MERRILL, C. 

MISS M. Are you rehearsing, girls? 

ARA. Not yet! 

MISS M. You must! {Pause. Studies book, room, girls, etc). 
Come, Hannah, you be a lounge over in this corner. (HAN. goes to 
upper left corner). You may sit of course. Take this chair. {Hands 
cnair.) 

CARRIE. Gee! Won’t she get set down on hard? 

HAN. But I don’t know how to be a lounge. Miss Merrill. Do I 
have to— 

CARRIE, {grinning) O just lie low and be natural. 

MISS M. You don’t do anytning but hold the place. Lord Harry 
comes in, and throws his coat dov/n upon you—the lounge, I mean,— 
and walks to Lady Clara,—centre front. (HAN. sits). Now let me 
see! O yes Dolly’s at centre front, and— 

DOLLY. Not yet! [Quickly takes place). 

HAN. May I study? If I’m just a lounge— 

MISS M. {pleased). Why, yes, if you like— 

CARRIE. {scornfully). That girl actually seems to think she 
came to High School to study. It gets my goat. Say, Miss Merrill, 
where do I come in? 

MISS M. {Turjiing pages of book). Let me see! Why, you’re the 
American girl—the millionaire’s daughter whose father made his pile 
in pork,—you marry Lord Harry,—buy him you know— 

CARRIE. Humph! Trash, I call it. 

MISS M. But it’s in the play. 

CARRIE. I could write a better play than that myself, without 
half trying. 

MISS M. You and Lady Clara—that’s Dolly—come to words over 
Lord Harry, who is really in love with Lady Clara,—Dolly,—but forced 
by lack of money to marry this Sarah Muggins,—that’s you. 


22 


SOME CLASS 


CARRIE. Who’s Lord Harry? 

MISS M. Douglas Knight. 

CARRIE. Me marry him? (MISS M. nods). And we quarrel? 
(MISS M. nods.) Dolly and me? MISS M. nods). Over that guy? 
(MISS M. 7iods). Nothing doing! 

MISS. M. But it's in the play. 

CARRIE. Then let’s cut it out! 

MISS M. But it’s the strongest part of the play. Without tha 
there would be no excuse at all for having the play. 

CARRIE. Humph! Well, how does it end? 

MISS M. Why, Lord Harry enters, throws his coat upon the 
lounge, kicks the lounge out of his way— 

BABE. Poor Hannah! 

DUDE. Won’t he hurt her? 

MISS M. {patiently). But Hannah won’t be the lounge when 
Lord Harry is here, you see! You stand here, Carrie Belle; you here, 
Dolly; Kathryn, you be the table over here; Viola, you’re the haughty 
mother— you come in when Dolly screams. Here, Dude,—you and 
Babe can be the two stools in front of the fireplace! 

DUDE. Yes, ma’am. {Hand in hand, DUDE and BABE tvalh 
aimlessly around room searching for fireplace). 

MISS M. Now, Carrie Belle, just imagine— 

CARRIE. Can’t! My imagination fairly aches now from over¬ 
work. I can’t stretch the thing another half inch or it’ll go broke! 

DUDE. Miss Merrill, we can’t find any fireplace. 

MISS M. (points). At left,—there! 

DUDE. Here? 

MISS M. Yes! 

DUDE. But I don’t see,—0 w^ell, it’s just pretend, I guess! (Sits 
floor facing L.) 

BABE. Where’ll I sit. Dude? 

DUDE. Right here by me. (BABE sits). My ain’t it nice to be 
Sophomores? 

MISS M. during following dialogue, busies herself changing all the 
girls except HAN. and the twins from place to place, trying the 
effect of various positions. 

BABE. Ain’t it, though? Did you ever in all your life see anything 
so green as the Freshman class this year? 

DUDE. I should say not! We surely knew^ a lot more than they do. 

BABE. And ain’t it—isn’t it—fine that w^e got such good marks 
in everything? 

DUDE. Dandy! Haven’t we learned a lot? I wouldn’t be a scrub 
again for—hardly anything. We’re real folks, now. 

ARA. {behind them). I’m supposed to stare into the fire, twins. 
I won’t sit on you. 

BABE. Ain’t we learned a pile since we started in school here, 
Arabella? 

ARA. Should say so! Last year, we treated the time-honored in¬ 
stitutions of the school \vdth all due reverence and respect. We spoke 
in tones of awe-struck dignity of the Professor, the Auditorium, the 
Dictionary, the Laboratory, the Campus, and the Gymnasium. Only 


23 


SOME CLASS 

Terrible Tyler, who had been here before, had the nerve to speak 
familiarly of “Gym” and “Dick,” the “And,” the “Lab,” and the 
“Camp.” Now, even “Prof.” has lost his terror, and we speak of him 
like a country cousin, or a rich Uncle from India. 

BARE. Don’t she sound just like Dolly, Dude? 

ARA. Dolly ain’t the only movie star in the Sophomore sky! If 
it wasn’t for my masterpiece— 

MISS M. Here are the books, girls. {Hands CARRIE and 
VIOLA books, DOLLY has hers). Now read a little. Carrie Belle, 
begin,—bottom page five.—“I am glad to get next”— 

CARRIE. inroads listlessly, without expression or spirit.) 
“I’m glad to get next to the rumpus that you’ve been kicking up on 
this side the azure pond. Lady Clara; but if Lord Harry had been so 
mighty crazy about getting hitched up to you, he sure had plenty of 
chance in the last forty years!” 

DOLLY. {Reads, with exacjgerated emphasis and spirit). 
“Forty years? Forty years? Do I here aright? Are my ears correctly 
interpreting the accent falling from your parted lips? Can it be that”— 

ARA. {Running forward). O Miss Merrill, its time for the game! 
Everybody but HAN. jumps up, dropping everything, and taking 
attitudes of hurry.) 

MISS M. Then I suppose I must excuse you. But be on hand 
early for the English test during the First Period tomorrow. We will 
take the life of Charles Dickens. Everybody come prepared, {exits Q.) 

CARRIE. O Gee! Just listen! The gentle art of genteel murdering! 

ALL. O Terrible Tyler! 

CARRIE. Everybody hike! 

KATH. Come, Hannah. 

HAN. {absently, looking up from hook with finger in to keep place.) 
What? {KATH. gestures toward entrance.) O no! I must study. I 
really haven’t time for the game! 

GIRLS, {with gestures of amazement). O Hannah! 

DUDE. Can stools go? 

CARRIE, Sure they can—toadstools like you two. 

ARA. Come on, you Heavenly Twins! {Walks between them, arm 
around each.) 

Exeunt all but HANNAH. 

HAN. {has watched them off, a trifle wistfully, then draws long sigh.) 
They won’t miss me a bit. {Returns to book.) “Let A, B, and C 
represent an equilateral triangle. If the line DE bisects the angle 
AB,”—dear me! I wonder if I have that right! 

Enter MISS M., C., followed by PROF. C. 

PROF. C. And how is the Sophomore Play progressing. Miss Mer¬ 
rill? 

MISS M, Fairly well, professor. The largest portion of the parts 
have been assigned, and some of the girls have begun to discuss their 
costumes. 

PROF. C. {throughout this dialogue, displays much nervousness, in¬ 
tense interest in the game, and desire to be there, which he attempts to curb 
and conceal.) That’s a fine class,—a fine class. Miss Merrill. I expect 
great things of them,—of,—er,— it. That football team, now, {pulls 


24 


SOME CLASS 


watch nervously, hurrying to replace it in pocket.) It’s almost time for 
the game now.—their game with the Seniors, you know! {Walks L., 
nervously.) Think of the delightful egotism of the boys that would 
dare to challenge the Seniors! It wdll be a tremendously interesting 
contest! {Walks R.) 

MISS M. Are you not going to the game? 

PROF. C. Ah, no! Not this one! I dare not. {TValks down front, 
— there, turns to face her.) The spirit of my college days boils in my 
blood whenever I get within hearing distance of the field. Once an 
athlete, always an athlete, you know. It’s a game little bug, that 
football microbe,—and breeds eternally. And in a game like this one, 
—w'ell, if I should display the least suggestion of favoritism, the 
slightest degree of partiality for either of the contesting sides. I’d lose 
my hold on one of the classes—perhaps on both! {Walks up C., there 
turning to face her.) I—I—it would not do! {Looks off nervously.) No, 
it would not do! R.) I hope—I hope—one of them will win, 

I really do! 

Enter BART, C., in ‘‘dress up'’ attire. 

BART. Say, Prof.! 

PROF. C. {Turning swiftly, hoping for news of the game.) Well! 

BART. My grandmother’s dead. 

PROF. C. Your grandmother? 

BART. Yes,—the last one I got left, too. 

PROF. C. Well, now, that’s bad, Bart. I—I know' what it means 
to lose relations and dear friends. Can I—do anything— 

BART. Just let me off this afternoon to go to the funeral. Prof. 
I’ll—I’ll—never forget it if you will. 

PROF. C. Sure! Sure! Go, my poor fellow. I’d send some flowers, 
if— 

BART, {hastily, waving hand, eloquently). No time! Time is called 
at 2:30 sharp! Thank you all the same! I’ll remember this! Good¬ 
bye! {Exits C.) 

PROF. C. {puzzled). Time called! What does he— 

MISS M. {amused). Why, didn’t you understand? That grand¬ 
mother story is a worn out fake on athletic days— 

PROF. C. Ah! I see! {Smiles). Clever old rascal! Well, I don’t 
blame him a bit. I only wish I could do the same thing. It gets in 
the blood somehow! I—I hope,—well, I hope somebody’ll win! 
{Exits C.) 

MISS M. Professor Cleveland seems unusually interested in this 
game. {Looks up, sees HAN.) Why, Hannah, why aren’t you at the 
Game? 

HAN. Why,—I,—I—I am studying Geometry! 

MISS M. Geometry? But, you have such good marks, Hannah. 
Surely it is not necessary for you to deprive yourself of the fun. 
You know' Arabella’s motto:— 

“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust! 

If Latin don’t kill us. Geometry must!” 

You need the recreation—the association,— 

HAN. {rises). The girls didn’t—need me! 


SOME CLASS 25 

MISS M. Didn’t need you? Of course they need you! Why, 
you’re one of them. (HAN. shakes head). Why not, Hannah? 

HAN. [walks front). They don’t like me. 

MISS M. (following). Why not? 

HAN. They call me a—a—grind! They think I study too much. 
They don’t like to have me get better marks than they do. But I—I 
have to study. There’s nothing else for me to do. 

MISS M. Again, why not? 

HAN. I’m not pretty nor stylish, nor clever, you see! I’m just 
plain Hannah. I never had a chum. They have their parties, their 
spreads, their auto rides, their picnics— 

MISS M. But they invite you, don’t they? 

HAN. O yes, they ask me! But they don’t— ivant me! There’s 
a difference! They’ve all got their chums. Carrie Belle likes Dolly; 
Kathryn and Viola are chums; Arabella’s crazy about the twins. So 
you see I’m just—out of it! 

MISS M. (hand on shoulder.) But I’d determine to be in it if 
I were you, Hannah. I’d—I’d—why, I’d just make them like me! 

HAN. Can’t be done! 

MISS M. Try! 

HAN. (shaking head). No good! 

MISS M. I like you, Hannah. I think you are very sweet and 
wise and winsome! 

HAN. O Miss Merrill! Don’t make fun of me. 

MISS M. Fun, dear child? Do I ever make fun of any of my 
students? I mean just what I say—every bit of it. (Has sudden 
inspiration). Listen, dear. I’m lonely too, sometimes, and nobody 
seems to need me. 

HAN. You, Miss Merrill? Surely not you,—so lovely and kind, and— 

MISS M. It’s true, Hannah. I need a chum. I haven’t had one 
since I left Vassar,—longer ago than I like to remember. W’on’t you 
be my chum? 

HAN. O do you mean it? Can you? 

MISS M. I surely do! (Holds out arms, and HAN. runs to her) 
There! There! (HAN. sobs. MISS M. comforts her.) 

Re-enter PROF. Q., at C. 

PROF. C. I wonder—ah! excuse me! (Backs away till they separate, 
then walks down). Don’t you suppose the game is nearly over? I’m 
so anxious for the S—for one of the classes to win! 

Enter DUDE and BABE, R 

DUDE. O Professor! 

BABE. Miss Merrill! 

b£b^ I (Together). Hannah! 

DUDE. We won! 

PROF. C. We? 

BABE. Won! 

PROF. C. You mean the Sophomores? 

DUDE. Why, of course! 

PROF. C. I’m so g—er surprised! 

Enter ARABELLA with tablet. 


26 


SOME CLASS 

ARA. Just hear my new poem, everybody! {While she reads poem, 
MISS M. talks to the twins, aside, motioning to HAN. and suggesting 
something. They look at HAN. slily, nodding approval). 

The Sophomore Class has won the game; 

The Senior flag droops low; 

The Sophomore Class has won such fame 
As Sophomores seldom know! 

{Enter CARRIE BELLE and DOLLY, C.) 
Sophomores that can from Seniors win 
Are of such wondrous worth 
That when they’re Seniors, they’ll begin 
To challenge all the earth! 

CARRIED. Some poem that. Airy! (MISS M. talks lo ARA. 
aside, as above). 

DOLLY. Isn’t it? 

CARRIE. But think of the subject she had to inspire her! Gee! 
I could write a poem about it myself. Gee! (MISS M. talks to 
DOLLY,aside). 

ARA. Yes, we always spell things with a capital G. Last year 
the word was Green. This year it’s Game! 

BABE. Mercy! Did you see the Freshmen at the game? 

DUDE. Aren’t they the greenest things? 

CARRIE. Poor infanta! (MISS M. talks to CARRIE, aside). 

BABE. Surely we were never as green as they are! 

DUDE. How could we be? 

DOLLY. But they’ll learn. It doesn’t seem as though we are just 
finishing our second year, does it? I feel as though we’d been in High 
School for ages! There can’t be much left for us to learn! (MISS M. 
catches DOLLY’S eye and nods to Han. significantly. DOLLY nods 
and turns to HAN). Hannah you sure did miss a lot. Why won’t 
you be a little bit human and show a little interest in the worth while 
things? (MISS M. and PROF. C. talks). 

CARRIE. She must think she’s a mighty lot better than the rest 
of us! 

HANNAH, {pained). O Carrie Belle! 

DOLLY, {reproachfully). Terrible! 

ARA. But, honestly, Hannah, just because you’re the best student 
in the bunch and stand so far above us in all your marks, doesn’t 
mean you ought to be so dreadfully stuck up, does it? 

DUDE. We’re just as good as you are, if we don’t know quite so 
much. 

BABE. Course we are. 

HAN. {chokingly). I don’t know what you mean. I—I— 

CARRIE. Won’t you be decent now, and join our Basket Ball 
team? You’re fine in Gym. and we need you. We’re going to pull 
the very socks off the other classes next week. Come on. Be a sport! 

HAN. Why, if you really want me— 

ARA. Sure we do! 

DOLLY. We always have. 

HAN. It’s so nice to be wanted. Of course I’ll be only too glad 
to join. 


27 


SOME CLASS 

Enter VIOLA and KATH. VIOLA has large bunch flowers. 

KATH. I’ve been sketching our football heroes. Isn’t this just 
perfect of Jack making a touchdown? {Holds up sketch.) 

PROF. C. Did Jack— {eagerly). 

CARRIE. Did he? Oh! if you could just have seen him! 

DOLLY, {dramatically.) The game was at its height. The 
score stood 6 to 6, with excitement on both sides at fever heat. From 
the bleachers, the purple and grey waved defiantly in too close a blend 
with our white and green. Something had to be done, and done 
quick,—but what? Ah! that breathless hush,—that wonderful, won¬ 
derful silence before the climax! Everybody leaned forward, eyes 
straining at the field of battle. Suddenly, out of the writhing mass 
of legs and arms, darted a boyish figure, the pigskin held firmly as he 
dashed for the goal. He pushed through this bunch, broke through 
that line, crowded through this, elbowed, hammered, kicked, dodged, 
squirmed, jumped, wriggled, and rolled, but he kept on, on, on, till he 
reached the goal. It was Jack,—and the Sophomore Class had scored 
the greatest triumph of the season! 

PROF. C. {rubbing hands together in delight). It was glorious! I 
knew that the S—Somebody would win! {Yells out C.) Here they 
come now! 

Enter CARL and DOUG, bearing JACK on shoulders. ROY and 
BART follow. Other hoys may attend if desired. 

CLASS, {yell). Rah! Rah! Rah! Rah! Rah! Rah! Rah! Rah! 
Rah! Sophomores! 

JACK. Aren’t they the Double It, Professor? {They let him down.) 

PROF. C. You back, too, Bart—so soon? 

BART. Why, of course. Prof. Why not? 

PROF. C. Your grandmother— 

BART, {comically). Goodnight! I forgot—(grmis) say. Prof., it 
was the liveliest funeral I ever see! 

PROF. C. You look as if it might have been a wake! 

BART. You don’t think— 

PROF. C. {hand on shoulder). No harm done, Bart! I understand, 
and—I don’t blame you! 

BART, {grips his hand). Golly, Prof, but you’re a white man- 
clean down to your toenails! 

VIOLA. {Carries flowers to JACK and presents them with loiv bow). 
At your feet, Victor of ours, we lay our laurels. 

JACK, {sheepishly). O Gee! what’ll I do with ’em? 

CARL. You must step in the office on the way out. Jack, and be 
measured for a medal. 

ARA. Wish you could have seen Terrible at the game. This is her 
style,—“Grip it,—grab it,—run, run,—run, I tell you!—O you idiot, 
—down on him there! sit, sit hard, keep sitting there,—O look out,— 
there now, fly! Whoop-ee! ah! zip! that’s it! that’s it—why don’t 
you move? Now you’ve done it—run, run, run!” {Increases in excite¬ 
ment, at the last jumping up and down, and waving handkerchief wildly) 
“0-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-h!” 

CARRIE. Well, I’d rather be alive than act this way,—“Isn’t it 
nice? What are they all running so fast for? I do hope our boys will 


28 SOME CLASS 

win, don’t you?” {Speaks very slowly, dragging every word, affectedly, and 
waving hand hack and forth languidly. The voice and action very sleepy ). 

DOUG. Anyway, the game is ours! Of course I knew it would be, 
but— 

CARL. There’s always a “but”— 

JACK. That’s what makes it interesting. Some class, eh, professor? 

PROF. C. Ah, you know it! you know it! {extends hand)^ Hail 
the conquering hero! 

PROF. C. and JACK and MISS M. stand C. CLASS 
surrounds them, and gives yell. 

CURTAIN. 

ACT III. 

SCENE:—PROFESSOR CLEVELAND’S office, same as ACT I. 
The four boys are discovered in ‘‘Ahem Corner,'^ MISS MERRILL 
standing in front. 

MISS M. Of course, boys, I understand perfectly that you don’t 
need the same sort of Expression as the girls do, but it’s every bit as 
essential to the making of a good orator. Now this “Betta Botta” 
story is silly, you think, but what can illustrate my point better? 
Just try it now. Take the first line, “Betta Botta bought a bit of 
butter,” and repeat it so as to express in it exactly the kind of a girl 
you think Betta was. Picture the imaginary Betta in your mind so 
strongly that your words must paint her for us. You will naturally 
each tell us of an altogether different kind of a girl. Come now, Car- 
leton! 

CARL, {rises, speaks very enthusiastically, pronouncing the name 
tenderly, and giving the whole line as though it was the most wonderful 
thing in the world.) “Betta Botta bought a bit of butter!” 

MISS M. An adorable Betta, that! 

DOUG. He was thinking of Viola. 

MISSM. Well, Jack! 

JACK {rises, speaks with great amusement, as though it was a joke). 
“Betta Botta bought a bit of butter!” 

MISS M. A jolly Betta, not used to buying butter! 

DOUG. Babe, I’ll bet! (MISS M. nods to LEROY.) 

LEROY {rises, speaks very pathetically, as though the “bit of butter^’ 
was all “Betta” could afford.) “Betta Botta bought a bit of butter.” 

MISS M. Poor Betta! 

DOUG, {rises, speaks with great disgust, as though “Betta” had no 
right in the world to buy even a “bit of butter”.) “Betta Botta bought a 
bit of butter!” 

MISS M. Not a very lovable Betta, Douglas. 

JACK. Wonder who Doug, was thinking of! 

MISS M. I see you get the idea, anyway. You may be excused 
now. 

Boys exeunt R. MISS M. goes to desk and gets green and 
white pieces of felt with large “J” for pattern. 

Enter HAN., KATH., DUDE, and BABE, L. 

KATH. Is our material ready, Miss Merrill? 


SOME CLASS 29 

MISS M. Yes. {distributes pieces to each). Make the “J” very 
conspicuous, girls. 

DUDE. O certainly! 

BABE. We want the swellest pennants in school. 

KATH. We must proclaim throughout all the world, and to all 
the inhabitants thereof the glorious fact of our Juniorship. 

DUDE. What for? 

BABE, And why? 

HAN. Don’t we look the part? Where’s Viola? 

KATH. O, off with Carleton somewhere, of course! 

DUDE. Viola doesn’t have to know anything or do anything 
but look fascinating. 

BABE. She captivates the world with a smile. 

HAN. Do you think Cleopatra looked like her? —or Helen of 
Troy? 

DUDE. Anyway, Roy prefers useful girls. 

BABE. So does Jack. 

HAN. {slily). Douglas does, too, doesn’t he, Kathryn? 

KATH. {embarrassed). Where’s Airy? 

HAN. Still working on her masterpiece. Where’s Terrible? 

DUDE. O Gym-ing, as usual! 

BABE, You never find her many feet from Gym. 

DUDE {giggling). No,—always /eeMn. 

HAN. I can’t sew very long. I must study two good hours before 
I sleep! Where are we going? 

MISS M. To the sewing-room. I’ll go with you. 

Exeunt all, C. M ISS M. and behind, arms around one another. 

Enter JACK, R. 

JACK. Where’s Dick? Right at home, old fellow, aren’t you? 
{Patting dictionary, familiarly, before openmg.) I want to master the 
most varied and impressive vocabulary that’s within the scope of pos¬ 
sibility. Dick, old boy, you must stand by me through this debate. 
Roy’s brilliant, and I’m just ordinary, but I want to make an argu¬ 
ment that is not altogether groundless. I must throw in some big 
words—high-sounding, convincing,—what Miss Merrill calls Junior- 
esque words,—whatever that means,—to astound everybody,—even 
myself,—with my eloquence. {Turns leaves, and as he finds a word, 
writes it down on paper.) “Stupendous,”—that’s a good one. “Col- ' 
ossal,”—that’s fine! “Heterogenous,” “ambiguous,” “lackadaisical,” 
—great! If I can work in a few of these, in the proper places, and 
connections, I guess I’ll convince him that women ought to and 
must be given the ballot! {Looks E.) Caesar! There he comes now! 
He musn’t see me cribbing words like this. Don’t you squeal, Dick! 
{Closes book quickly, dropping list of words unnoticed, and exits R.) 

Enter LEROY, L. 

LEROY. Nobody here? O well! I can help myself to a talk with 
Dick! When in doubt, ask Dick! {Sees list on floor) What’s this? 
{picks up and reads). A list of words,—“stupendous,”—“colossal,” 
“heterogenous,” “ambiguous,” “lackadaisical.” Some words there! 
Looks like a spelling lesson! Say, Leroy West, you just better get 


30 SOME CLASS 

busy with some words like these, and you can wind Jack Reese into a 
ball. He’ll soon see for himself that a woman has no right nor place 
at the polls. That’s a great idea, and I’m going to work it up. 
(Searches dictionary, adding words to list quietly.) 

Enter DUDE and BABE, R. 

DUDE. I don’t care, Babe Green!—You’re almost too mean to 
mention. 

BABE. And you are—are—incorrigible! 

DUDE. Humph! I suppose you borrowed that word from Jack. 
Don’t forget to return it. 

BABE. Well, I didn’t have to ask Roy West how to pronounce it. 
[Flounces to seat in ^^Ahem Corner.”) 

DUDE (seeing ROY). ’Sh! [Walks toward ROY). Copying the 
dictionary, Roy? 

ROY. Not quite,—but nearly! I’m working like the mischief on 
that debate, you know. 

DUDE. Won’t it be fine? What’s the subject? 

LEROY [impressively). “Resolved, that American Women should 
be given the ballot.” 

DUDE. And 3 mu’re on— 

LEROY. The negative, of course. It’s the only side a reasonable 
being could talk on. I’m strong for it. 

DUDE. I just know you’ll win. 

BABE. Humph! (DUDE scowls at her over shoulder). 

LER,OY. Well, of course, 1 hope to. But I don’t know. Jack’s very 
clever, and he’s got all sorts of ideas on all sorts of subjects. He’s 
a powerful opponent,—if he has got the wrong side of the question. 

DUDE. But, Roy, you’re just splendid! 

BABE. So’sJack! 

ROY [walks to entrance). Of course he is. Babe! Isn’t he a Jun¬ 
ior? [Exits R.) 

DUDE [walking down toward BABE). You consider yourself very 
much more brilliant than you really are. Babe Green! 

BABE. Ditto! You also have an exaggerated opinion of your own 
intelligence. 

DUDE. I used to think— 

BABE. O, did jmu? Strange I never noticed it. Pity you didn’t 
keep it up. 

Eyiter DOUGLAS, C. 

DOUG, [coming down). Anything for the school paper today, girls? 

DUDE. O, you are the new editor, aren’t you? 

BABE. Isn’t it classy to have one of our very own boys at the head 
ef the staff? 

DUDE. Got the debate? 

DOUG. Of course! A full column. 

DUDE. The contest? 

DOUG. Sure thing! Thunk and writ down by Hannah, herself! 

BABE. The Basket Ball game? 

DOUG. Terrible’s handing that in. 

BABE. She’ll do it up fine! Got a poem from Airy? 

DOUG. Seven of ’em! 


31 


SOME CLASS 

DUDE. A cartoon from Kathryn? 

DOUG. Certainly. Classy work too! We’re going to have some 
swell paper, take it from me! See the new heading 1 have for the 
Birth, Marriage, and Death Column—“Hatched, Matched, Snatched.” 
Some class to that—eh? But there hasn’t a thing come in along that 
line, of course—it's no news that we’re Hatched; none of us are Mat- 
ched yet—and we have good reason to hope that none will be 
Snatched before the paper’s out! 

BABE. What’s the use of the column, then? 

DOUG. Why, it’s the funny page, Angel child. 

BABE. I see. We’re supposed to laugh. 

DOUG. I should smile. I’m going to add under it,—“Owing to 
our crowded condition, births, marriages, and deaths have been post¬ 
poned until next week.” That’ll make it all right. 

DUDE, {thoughtfully). Our cat’s dead! 

DOUG. No room for it. 

BABE (sadly). But he was such a perfectly good cat! 

DOUG, (starts L., turns back). Did you go to the lecture in the 
Auditorium last Assembly? 

DUDE. Yes. 

DOUG. What was there to it? 

BABA (giggling). Two hours and a half. 

DOUG. Yes, but—what about? 

BABE. I think he forgot to tell us. 

DOUG. Well, maybe Hannah will know. (Goes L.) 

DUDE. She knows most everything. 

DOUG. Thanks for your help. (Exits L.) 

BABE. Nice, isn’t he, Dude? 

DUDE. Not so nice as Roy. 

BABE. Not half so nice as Jack. 

DUDE. There you go again,—Jack, Jack, Jack! 

BABE. And there you go again,—Roy, Roy, Roy! 

Enter LEROY, C., foUmoed by JACK. 

LEROY But, Jack, the stupendous superiority of the male intellect— 

JACK. And the colossal egotism of masculine stupidity— 

LEROY. With the lackadaisical characteristics of the average 
feminine— 

JACK. And the ambiguous reasoning faculties of her illiterate 
opponents— 

LEROY (scornfully). “T^dnkle, twinkle little star! 

How I wonder what you are!” 

JACK. That’s Kindergarten talk. You should say, 

“Scintillate, scintillate, infinitesimal planetary orb! 

Incessantly I interrogate your constituent elements!” 

But, wait till the debate is called, and I’ll convince you— 

LEROY. Never! 

JACK. O, of course, if you won’t admit it, you won’t! You can 
lead a horse to water, but 3 ^ou can’t make him drink! 

LEROY. Baby-talk! Perhaps you meant to say, “One mav con¬ 
duct the equine quadruped to the aqueous fluid, yet it is impossible to 
compel him to imbibe.” Now, Woman’s Suffrage— 


32 SOME CLASS 

JACK. Is just ordinary justice to the mothers of a free and equal 
people! 

ROY. It’s a paradox! 

JACK. I should say an anomaly! 

ROY. Unmitigated! 

JACK. Most debilitating and humiliating! Accelerated by— 

LEROY. Rankhere.sy! 

JACK (walks L.) Blank idiocy! I’m going to prove— 

LEROY (following). Nothing! But I’ll show you— 

JACK. Less than nothing! (Exits L.) 

LEROY. But, Jack, can’t you see— (Exits L.) 

BABE. Mercy! If they’d hit one another with those big words! 

DUDE. ’Twould hurt some! But of course, as Juniors, they have 
to uphold our class dignity! 

Enter ARABELA, L. 

ARA. O girls! What do you think? 

DUDE. Don’t! 

BABE. Quit! 

ARA. I’ve been elected Junior reporter on the new Annual. Isn’t 
that magnificent? 

DUDE. Shall you write it— 

ARA. Of course! 

BABE. In rhyme? 

ARA. I think not. Personally, I’d prefer the measured form of com¬ 
position, but I must naturally give due consideration to the prefer¬ 
ences and prejudices of those of more common intellect. If it wasn’t 
for my masterpiece, and the claim it has on me— 

DUDE, (jumps up). Mercy! I ought to be studying. I just can’t 
get my Latin. 

ARA. Concentration, my angel child, is the one thing lacking in 
your intellectual equipment. Focus your faculties upon that Latin, 
and—the translation does itself. It is very easy—a mere matter of 
will-power. The one secret of High School efficiency,—I quote Pro¬ 
fessor Collins Cleveland, also Miss Merrill, and various others of equal 
fame,—no doubt, is this:—“Sit down and concentrate.'” 

BABE. But how? 

ARA. Listen, baby that you are, to my latest poem:— (Reads from 
paper). 

“Whenever you’re afraid you won’t 
Rise to a higher state, 

Just try the teacher’s little stunt— 

Sit down and concentrate! 

“You can get your lessons the easiest way. 

As teachers oft relate, 

As they, with utmost patience say, 

‘Sit down, and concentrate! 

“Don’t lose hours when the work of one 
Would keep you up to date; 

Just try this plan,—it’s really fun ! 

Sit down and concentrate! ” 


SOME CLASS 


33 


•‘Well, what is that you’re asking now? 

Why do you hesitate? 

O no! They never tell us how! 

Sit down and concentrate!” 

Enter VIOLA, R. 

VI. Arabella! 

ARA. Present! 

VI. I’ve been looking for you for an hour. Professor Cleveland 
told me to hand you this note. {Hands note. ARA. tares it oyen ner¬ 
vously, and reads.) Where are the other girls? 

DUDE. Making pennants. 

VI. I’d forgotten the pennant committee. Isn’t our white and 
green simply gorgeous? We have left the green far behind us now, and 
are rapidly approaching the white. Wish I’d taken a little Domestic 
Science now, so I’d know which end of the needle to punch with. I’d 
like a hand in those pennants. 

ARA. Just listen, girls! (Reads). “Miss Ayers :-I wish to see you 
in my office at 4 P. M. today, without fail. Respectfully, Collins Cle¬ 
veland.” What can be the matter? (VIOLA gives gesture of amaze¬ 
ment, shakes head, exits C). 

BABE. I bet he saw that poem you wrote about him. 

DUDE. You’ll catch it! 

ARA. O do you think it possible? Who could have shown it to 
him? 

BABE. He might have accidentally— 

ARA. O yes, he might! And the Kaiser might have cabled it to 
him from Berlin. But he didn’t! 

DUDE (After a pause. Jumps up). I’ve got it! 

ARA. (feigning alarm). Measles? 

DUDE. Mercy, no! Do I look so red as that? 

ARA. Well, no, but the way you broke out— 

DUDE. Is that funny? Ought we to laugh? Listen! You left it 
in a book— 

ARA. How do you know? Who said so? 

DUDE. At the library, and he found— 

ARA. But I haven’t had a library book,—nor even seen one,— 
since I wrote that poem. But then,—what’s the use? It doesn’t 
matter how he got hold of it. The thing is that he has got hold of it. 
The question is, how shall I meet him,and what shall I say? 

BABE. I’m glad it is you and not me,—I,—or Dude,—I mean. 
Dude or me,—I,—who has to face him. 

ARA. But it wasn’t meant to be disrespectful. I think my eyes of 
Prof. I just intended it for a joke. What can I do? O what shall I 
say? 

DUDE. Tell him the truth! 

ARA. But how? If I just had a little of Dolly’s dramatic ability, 
I’d manage it all right! I can write a little,—but when it comes to 
acting, nothing doing! 


34 


SOME CLASS 


BABE. Why don’t you get Dolly— 

DUDE. To coach you? 

ARA. No time. Besides, where is Dolly? 

Enter DOLLY, C. 

DOLLY (promptly). Here! 

ARA. O Dolly, I’m in such trouble. I’m going to be—be—sus¬ 
pended! 

DOLLY. Suspended? (Looks up at ceiling in alarm), Where? 

ARA. O I don’t mean I’ll be hanged! I mean—laid on the shelf,— 
put out of the class,—maybe expelled. 

DUDE. Let’s you and me go back to the bunch. Babe. 

BABE, (arm around DUDE). Like me now, sis? 

DUDE. Better’n anybody! (Exeunt twins, L.) 

DOLLY. Now tell me all about it. What for? 

ARA. Writing a poem! 

DOLLY. Whew! atr). Well, Airy, your poems 

are pretty bad,—there’s no question about that,—but I didn’t know 
any of them were quite that dreadful. Which is the guilty one? 

ARA. The one about Prof. 

DOLLY. Why, I thought that was the best of all. 

ARA. I’m to meet him here this afternoon at 4:00. Do tell me 
what to say. I must get up some sort of an apology, but I know 
I’ll be scared stiff! 

DOLLY. I see. (Thinks a little.) Well, try the gushing style. 

ARA. 1 can’t—gush! 

DOLLY. Try! 

ARA. O Professor Cleveland, dear Professor Cleveland,— 

DOLLY. Strong emphasis on the “dear”— 

ARA. Strong emphasis on the “dear.” 

DOLLY. No, no, I didn’t mean—that’ll never do. I guess you 
can’t gush! 

ARA. Told you so! 

DOLLY. Try the cold and haughty air. 

AR A. Cold and haughty? Let me see. (Tremblingly). Professor 
Cleveland, how could you ever have been so unreasonable as to sup¬ 
pose that a girl of me—I mean my—my— 

DOLLY. Worse and worse! Don’t try that! Try the giggle! It 
works with some. 

ARA. I’m no giggler! O Professor,—tee-hee-hee—isn’t it just too 
funny—tee-hee-hee— 

DOLLY. Practice the laugh alone,—different tones. 

ARA. Tee-hee-hee! 

Enter BART, C. 

BART. I’m looking for a Least Common Multiple now! 

ARA. Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho! 

BART (after staring at her a little). Some of them blamed Fresh¬ 
men are mighty careless. 

ARA. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! 


SOME CLASS 35 

BAR,T {Afier another amazed stare her). Always losing 
something, and leaving word for me to find it. 

ARA. Haw, haw, haw! {He stares agam). He-haw! he-haw! 
he-haw! he-haw! 

BART. Good land deliver me! I’ve saw some mighty queer things 
since I’ve been to this here school, but nobody ever went plumb crazy 
before, to my knowledge. {Backs oid (J/in alarm). 

DOLLY. Better ring off. Airy, and try the weeps! 

ARA. Where’s my handkerchief? {Finds it, and wipes eyes.). I 
am so sorry, professor—boo, hoo, hoo! I really didn’t mean,—boo, 
hoo, hoo! 

DOLLY. Hush! What can you do? Can you be coquettish? 

ARA. Mercy, no! Not with Prof. “O professor,! know you couldn’t 
believe I could have written such a thing of you,— of all the men in 
the world! You and I are too good friends,”— 

DOLLY Never! never! Arabella! Better plead! 

ARA. {kneels). O Professor Cleveland, I implore— 

Enter PROF. C., at C. 

PROF. C. Wdiy, Miss Ayers, is that you? {She springs to feet in 
confusion). Some new play, I presume! {Exit DOLLY slyly, L). 

ARA. {timidly). You wished to see me, professor? 

PROF. C. Yes, Miss Ayers. I’ll not keep you but a minute. We 
are to have a program at the Metropolitan Theatre next Wednesday 
for the benefit of the Teachers’ Association, and I wondered if you 
would have time to furnish us with an original poem for the occasion. 
Your poems are so very good— 

ARA. {faintly, completely overcome by surprise). O do-you-think-so? 

PROF. C. I certainly do. 

ARA. Why, I-I— 

PROF. C. Wdiat is the matter? Don’t you want— 

ARA. O indeed I do! I’m just crazy to write it. I’ll be only too 
glad to— 

Enter CARRIE BELLE, C. in gyrnnasium suit. 

CARRIE. Hello, Airy. 

ARA. Where have you been in that rig. Terrible? 

CARRIE. O another spell of Gym! The debate’s deckled, professor! 

PROF. C. Indeed! How? 

CARRIE. They say it’s a tie. Two of the judges were on each 
side, and the fifth simply could’nt vote for either. 

PROF. C. Then I suppose that all-irnportant question will never 
olved for the wondering world. 

Enter Bx\.RT, C. 

BART. Say, Prof, them Junior kids could out blow a fanning-mill. 
If they went to war, all they’d need to take with’em would be a few o’ 
them big words they keep firing at each other, and a hull army’d ;fall 
flat. 

PROF. C. W’hich seemed to be ahead in the argument? 

BART. Well, sir. all the difference I could see betwixt them was 
that each was so much worse than the other. 


36 


SOME CLASS 

Enter LEROY and JACK, C., arm in arm. 

BART dodges and runs out R. 

LEROY. No question about it, Jack. You’ve convinced me From 
this on, I am utterly and irrevocably devoted to the propogation 
of Woman’s Suffrage. 

JACK. But, Roy, listen! It’s absurd. That point of yours about 
the Southern gentlewoman and the sanctity that should surround the 
mother in the home—that toast especially,—“Here’s to Woman—Our 
superiors yesterday,—our equals today” got me. I couldn’t listen to 
a woman’s having the vote, after that! 

LEROY. Yes, Jack, but see here! It’s just as you said. Nobody 
wants to think of his mother, his sister, or his--his—well, his sweet¬ 
heart,—being classed with the infants and idiots. I tell you, old fellow, 
you had me there. A woman’s fully equal to a man,—and I’m glad to 
be man enough to say so. 

JACK. But, Roy , you were right. I can see— 

LEROY. No, Jack, you were right. Why, now I can— 

Enter CARLTON, R. with VIOLA. 

CARL. Some debate, eh, professor? They’ve actually converted 

of n 

Enter DOUGLAS. L. ivith KATII. 

DOUG. And they’ve got the rest of us so divided in opinion that 
w^e haven’t a sign of an idea which side of the fence we are on. 

Enter BABE and DUDE, C., DOLLY and HANNAH, L. 

C.\RRIE. Well, so long as I have a right to all I want of Gym, 1 
won’t ask no other rights. 

Enter MISS M., C. with report cards. 

CARL. Not even the rights of proper speech,—eh. Terrible? 

ARA. Terrible Tyler! Terrible Grammar! 

MISS M. And yet on these terminal report cards I find— 

ALL. Cards! Cards! 

MISS M. {reading). Carrie Belle Tyler,^—Grammar, 96 per cent. 
{Hands card to CARRIE, who sttidies it in astonishment. Hands the 
others quietly.) 

CARRIE. Well, what do you know about that? 

LEROY {looking over DUDE’s shoulder). Did you pass. Dude? 

MISS M. Everybody passed! (PROF. C. rubs hands together with 
delight.) 

CLASS {yell): 

Rickety, rickety, rickety russ! 

Juniors! Zip! Some class to us! 

PROF. C. And Hannah and Douglas have the prizes in the essay 
contest— 

JACK. What was your subject. Dug?—“Finger Prints in the 
Soup?” 

DOUG. Nothing so elaborate. Just plain “Ten Nights in Deten¬ 
tion!” 

JACK. From experience, eh? 


SOME CLASS 


37 


LEROY. Don’t you see, Jack, there’s a proof right there that you 
were right. Here’s Hannah—a girl—taking first prize when the boy 
comes in second. Now if— 

JACK. But, Leroy, that only proves your point,—“Our superiors 
yesterday”— 

DUDE. Dear me! Dear me! Now, before that question can ever 
be settled, we’ !1 have to have that debate all over again,— 

BABE. With Jack and Roy on opposite sides! 

PROF. C. I’m proud of your good marks. Juniors. I’m pleased 
with all your good work. I’m delighted with you. 

ARA. That’s worth a song! Start it, somebody. 

CLASS SONG. 

Air: “Lightly Row.” 

B. H. S. B. H. S. 

Blankville’s greatest pride—O yes! 

Brightest clsss known to pass 
O’er her sacred grass! 

Watch us climb o’er all that bars 
Through the clouds up to the stars— 

White and green, white and green. 

Class 1917. 

Green and white, green and white. 

High school days so gay and bright. 

We must fight, day and night. 

Toward the goal in sight! 

May each life new leaves disclose. 

Fragrant as our own white rose, 

White and green, white and green. 

Class 1917. 

Climbing high, toward the sky. 

May our white rose never die! 

Bud or bloom, sweet perfume. 

Must each sense illume! 

Green is for the fresh and new. 

White is for the pure and true. 

Splendid sheen, ever seen 
For 1917. 

During song, JACK and BABE, LEROY and DUDE, 

CARL, and VI., DOUG, and KATH. have paired off. 
CARRIE eyes them teasingly. 

CARRIE. Gee! It’s hard to tell this year whether our Capital G 
stands for Grind or Girls! 


(CURTAIN. 


38 


SOME CLASS 
ACT IV. 

SCENE: Stage of Metropolitan Theatre, where the Commencement 
Exercises are to he held. BART on step-ladder at left side of hack, ar¬ 
ranging draperies of green and white hunting across hack, in previously 
arranged festoons. KATHRYN sta7ids helow ladder, directing. A large 
lantern, carefully wrapped in heavy hrown paper, and securely tied with 
twine, is on an overturned dry-goods hox at h. A tall pedestal is in upper 
right hand corner. ARABELLA on small hox heside it, writing husily. 
JACK stands at front, close to edge, rehearsing. DUDE is at left front. 
BABE at right front, on small hox, with manuscript on knee, coaching him. 


BABE. Now, begin over—hadn’t he better, Mina? 

DUDE, Yes,—at the very first. 

JACK. The “Game of Life is much like the game of Football,—the 
hard, close struggle,— the grip on the ball, not knowing how soon it 
may be wrenched out of our very fingers,—often the enemy on top, 
bearing down so hard our faces seem to bite the very dust,”— 

KATH. A little higher! 

JACK, {tui'nimj). Higher? Like this—“the very dust?” 

KATH. At the other end— 

JACK. The last end, you mean? Can’t you wait— 

KATH. {turning to hmi). No! No! I was speaking to Bart about 
the bunting. 

ARA. (looking iqy). Are we supposed to stand so close to the 
footlights? 

DUDE. Sure! Dolly says the voice won’t carry unless we do. Go 
on. Jack. 

(JACK has been hacking up away from, front, to try effcAd 


of change). 

BABE. You’re great! 

JACK. Where was I? 

BABE. Why, right up close— 

JACK. No, no! In the speech! How far— 

BABE. Oh! {searches place, prompting): At “the very dust.” 

JACK. O yes! “The very dust!” Would you bring it out strong 
and final, like this,—“dust,”—(BART drags ladder to new place 
with miicti 7ioise. JACK waits till he gets it placed.) —or would 
you hold it up—high up—suspended, as it were, in the air,—“dust”— 

DUDE. No dust in the air for us. Jack. Bring it down hard, and 
bury it deep! 

JACK. But, Babe,—er—Nina, don’t you think— 

BABE. Not if I can help it. You’ll have to— 

Enter ROY a'nd DOUG, carrying large palm, L. 

ROY. Move over. Jack! Make room for the other green things! 

JACK. But this is the place— 

DOUG. For the plant. 

JACK, {firmly) —for the speaker. 

DOUG. Kathryn! {She comes dow)n). Which? Jack or palm? 

KATH. The palm would show up better—( Considei'ing positions.) 

BABE. But Jack would show Oj^'better— 


SOME CLASS 39 

KATH. Put the palm a little to the left. Leave the center clear 
lor the speakers. 

ROY. Here? {She nods). But where do we sit? 

KATH. Just behind the palms. 

DOUG. Out of sight, eh? (BART drops heavy hammer. All 
jump and turn). 

KATH. Not at all. Plenty of space when the stage is cleared of 
the rubbish. 

Exeunt DOUG, and ROY, L. KATH. returns to hack. 

BABE. You’ll have to hurry, Jack, if you get this rehearsed in time 
to— 

JACL. {assumes soldierly air, great dignity). Would you stand 
this way, or would you act more careless—hands in pockets, you know', 
easy and familiar,— 

BABE. O never! 

JACK. It’s more natural. 

DUDE. Not so dignified. This isn’t a Junior debate. It’s the 
greatest Commencement— 

BABE, {impatiently). Yes, yes! Do go on. 

JACK. “Then up,—away,—the pigskin held close, as we press on, 
toward the goal,—breaking through the opposing ranks, and running, 
running, for all there is in us.” 

KATH. A little low'er there! 

JACK. Why? 

KATH. The artistic effect— 

JACK. Why, I thought it— 

KATH. Go on—go on—I was talking about the decorating. 

ARA. What rhymes with “vision?’' 

JACK {grinning). “Prison,” nearly. 

DUDE. Is it your masterpiece. Airy?—I mean, Arabella? 

ARA. {coming down). Don’t, Mina. I’ve learned some big 
things in the last year, and I now know what an immense joke that 
idea of mine was. Professor Cleveland has shown me that a master¬ 
piece is a crowning achievement of a lifetime,—brought forth after 
years and years of preparatory toil. 

KATH. Well, who knows but tonight,—the last hour of our high 
school career may, after all, be the masterpiece of our minds’ endeavor? 

ARA. No, no! I want it to be but a start—a small beginning. I 
want every new thing I do to be just a little better than the last one. 
(BART pounds with hammer, several times, with the effect of applause. 
ARk. stands with hands clasped at breast, looking up to ceiling as if 
inspired.) 

KATH. Some day, I’m going to paint a picture—O Arabella! do 
hold that pose a minute! It’s great. {Grabs tablet and pencil from 
box, sketches rap'idly.) 

BART. How about— 

KATH. Just a minute, Bart. I’m getting Airy— 

JACK. She means light-headed. 

ARA. {after pause.) Can I—may I—move— 

KATH. {alarmed). Not for worlds! No, no! 


40 


SOME CLASS 


BART {impatiently). But this stuff’s going to— 

KATH. Never mind, Bart! This is simply gorgeous of Arabella. 
I’ll call it “Invoking the Muses’’ and maybe I’ll get a hanging— 

BABE (horrified). O Kathryn! 

KATH. {calmly). In some gallery! 

DUDE {relieved). O Kathryn! 

KATH. {after pause). There! Thank you, Airy. That’s the best 
I’ve done in months. {Holds it off, looking at it with great satisfaction. 
ARA. looks over shoulder.) 

ARA. Merciful Stars! Do I look like that? 

KATH. Exactly! Your eyes, your mouth, your chin,—your very 
nose—the little crooked eye-brow,—it’s all you! 

ARA. I’ve a notion to commit suicide. No hope for me! {Walks 
to seat, in disgust, KATH. still admiring sketch.) 

BART, {in exasperation) Will you come— 

KATH. Yes, yes, Bart! Higher, there! Lots higher! More green 
to form a background for the roses! 

BART. What roses? 

KATH. The White Climber, you know! Paper! We girls made’em! 

BART. Humph! 

JACK. W^ouldn’t Bart do? He’s some CHmber, and he’s white 
clear through! 

KATH. We’d better place the motto before draping any more— 
I’ll get the letters,—they’re out— (Exits R.) 

DUDE. Are you going to finish your oration. Jack? 

JACK. Where was I? 

BABE. And how far would you have been if you hadn’t stopped? 
Let me see! You had “all there is in us.’’ 

KATH. {re-enters R.) Here we are. I’ll hand them up,—you nail 
’em tight! 

JACK. “Whether to win or lose, we know not. We must play the 
game in open field, and play it fair and square,—for each individual 
has his own vital part in the contest for supremacy. The singing, 
(BART pounds) the cheering, (BART pounds) the shouting, {pound) 
the final uproar, {pound) is always for the winner,— {pound) the vic¬ 
tor,— {pound) the man on top! (BART gives three heavy pounds. Is 
fastening up the motto, and has the first five letters tacked up at the con¬ 
clusion of this paragraph.) Some one who cares is watching you, 
{pound) yelling for you, {pound) laughing, {pound) even crying for you, 
{pound) flashing your colors, {pound) and breathlessly following 
(pomd) every step of the way!’’ {pound). Not so many commas, 
Bart! 

BART {scratching head). Commas? There ain’t none in that— 
{looks motto.) 

JACK. More like periods, maybe! “Over and over, they call on 
us to surrender. Our answer is’’— {pauses to think, scratching head.) 

BABE {pointing to wall, where “No Sur”—is tacked.) Behind you, 
Jack! 


41 


SOME CLASS 

JACK {turninq, seeing motto and grinninq). Exactly! 

BABE. That last was so pretty, Jack. Do you mean—some girl? 
JACK. Well, some woman, Babe,—er—Nina! A fellow^’s mother, 
sister,—maybe, a sweetheart, or,—some sweet day, a wife. Don’t 
you see? 

DUDE. CfO on! We’ll never get anywhere, if— 

Jx\CK. “Now, Classmates, if I”— 

BABE, Hadn’t you better take out your “I”— 

JACK {feeling e^je, in'perplexity). What? It isn’t glass! 

DUDE. In the sentence. Sounds egotistical. 

JACK {indignantly). Indeed! Do you think— 

Enter VIOLA, beautifully gowned, big hat, etc. R. 

VI. I wonder if I have time to practice my essay— 

JACK. Not till I— {Staring at her admiringly.) 

VI. But I have to— 

JACK. So do I. {Still staring at her). 

VI. (a little abashed by his gaze, pids both hands to hat.) Is my 
hat— 

KATH. O Viola! Do hold that pose! It’s just too striking! 
BART. But do I have to hold my pose— 

KATH. {sketches rapidly). O Bart,— wait! This is so— 

BART, {resignedly). I’ll wait! {Drops harnmer, can of tacks, etc. 
from top of ladder, sits on ladder with folded arms, whistling loudly.) 
BABE. O dear! Hadn’t you better go back to the beginning, Jack? 
JACK. O do you think— 

KATH. There! O Viola! It’s too lovely. Now, Bart, ready for 
business again. 

BART, {holding pose grimly, still whistling.) Are you sure? 
KATH. Why, yes. We’ve got so much to do yet—chairs and tab¬ 
les to place, rugs, plants, flow^ers, programs,—and the motto isn’t 
quite— 

BART. Well, if you’re sure! {Jumps to floor, with bang, picks up 
hammer, nails, etc.) I’ve been trying to do this work for the hull 
blamed week, but somebody was always speaking a piece. Here it’s 
the last afternoon, and near the last hour, and—here we are! {Ascends 
ladder again.) 

JACK. Still speaking, but little peace! 

VI. How nice we’re going to look! Isn’t it exciting?—just like get¬ 
ting married! 

JACK. Maybe so! I’ve never got married—yet. 

VI. Where we going to sit? 

BABE. Right about here. The girls in white, the boys furnishing 
the green! 

VI. What’s the ochestra going to play? 

JACK. Mendelsohnn’s Wedding March! 

VH. What? {Begins to look closely at lantern.) 

JACK. I mean, “Spring Song.” 

VI. Say, everybody! What’s this? {All but BART croivd around it.) 
ARA. Why—that must be—careful! Don’t touch it! Can’t you 

see-it’s the bust of Shakespeare to give Professor Cleveland tonight. 


42 


SOME CLASS 


VI. Wonder if Douglas has got his presentation speech learned? 
KATH. Sure! But what did the boys bring it so early for? What 
if Prof, comes and finds it? 

BABE. He’s almost sure— 

DUDE. To be here! 

ARA. They shouldn’t— 

JACK. But they did! Hadn’t we better— (starts to pick it up.) 
KATH. O don’t! 

VI. Heavens! Don’t touch it! 

DUDE. If you should— 

BABE. Break it— 

ARA. It cost a lot of money— 

JACK. Well, do you girls think I’m a baby? 

Enter DOLLY and CARRIE, R. They cross to left. 

DOLLY. Any room for rehearsing here? I haven’t had a chance— 
CARRIE. Seems pretty full! What’s this? 

BABE (breathlessly). The bust— 

DUDE. Of Shakespeare! 

CARRIE. What in the world is it— 

DOLLY. He’ll see it! 

AR.4. O don’t you think we— 

DOLLY (emphatically, shakmg head). He’ll see it! 

VI. Whatever possessed the boys— 

CARRIE (superiorly). O they’re just boys! What else could we 
expect? 

Enter DOUG, and ROY, with another palm. L. 

DOUG. Where, Kathryn? 

KATH. At the right side of stage,—across from the other. 

DOUG, (as they place it). Well, we’ve got all the plants out here 
now. It won’t take long to—What’s wrong? (Boys walk up to group.) 
CARRIE. Why in the world did you bring that bust— 

LEROY. Bust? 

CARRIE (nods) —of Shakespeare, and leave it here where Prof.— 
DOUG. Not guilty! 

ROY. The man was ordered to deliver it at eight o’clock sharp— 
to Bart—at the stage door. I suppose he— 

CARRIE. Suppose nothing! It’s here,—and what’s to be done? 
KATH. What a shame! Well, we’ll just have to keep Prof, from 
finding it out some way. 

CARRIE. But how? 

BABE. I wouldn’t touch it— 

DUDE. For the world! 

JACK. We’ll just have to stand on guard with a “Mustn’t touch 
it!” thought. 

DOLLY. Do you like the way that stuff is draped? Wouldn’t it 
look better twisted— 

CARRIE. No, no,—looped up like a rose—our White Climber,— 
that would have been classy! 

DUDE. Why not pleated? 


SOME CLASS 


43 


BABE (giggles) Or shirred? 

ARA. 1 think those folds are very pretty! 

KATH. If you girls wanted it any other way, 3 ’ou should have 
come in time to lend a hand. We’ve done our best— 

DOLLY. O it’s lovely, of course, but— 

CARRIE. That motto’s “z7”! 

DOUG. Yes, it was “Never sa^' die!” in our Freshman year. I’lii 
glad we made the change. Of course, “No surrender!” means exactlj’^ 
the same thing, but it sticks closer, somehow, — digs down deeper,— 
grips harder. 

KATH. Everj'body get busy! It’s getting late and I can’t do 
everything, and move around all jmii folks at the same time. If you 
stay here, you’ll have to work. 

DOUG, {pulling off coat). Say what! 

KATH. You and Roy can bring in j'our plants. The boxes and 
things have to be carried off,—the rugs and chairs brought in—O just 
everything! It won’t take long if everydody takes hold. The stuff’s 
all here—behind the scenes. Be very careful not to disturb that 
bust! {All get busy.) 

ROY. Where do we stand? 

KATH. Just between those two palms. 

DOLLY. Close to the footlights. 

ROY. Here? {Goes to front, stands backmg up, bowing, gesturing, 
etc.) 

Enter MISS M. and HANNAH, L. 

MISS M Well, well! The stage seems occupied. We can’t prac- 
ice here. 

VI. So I have discovered. 

JACK. Likewise yours truly! 

MISS M. You’ve done nicely, Bart. 

BART. Yes’m! 

HAN. {walking down front v)ith M.) O Miss Merrill, how 

can I ever make you understand what your love has been to me? 

MISS M. No more than yours to me, Hannah. But—won’t j’ou 
say “Jessie?” Not since I was a girl at Vassar has anybody cared to 
speak mj^ name. I’ve almost forgotten the sound of it. 

HAN. I will, Miss,—I mean, .Jessie. It’s so sweet of you to let 
me. I’m going to miss you so. 

MISS M. How about me? Ah, Hannah, old maids have hearts, 
sometimes, and hearts that can feel, almost like human ones. You’ve 
been a bles.sing to me and brought more sunshine into my life than 
you can guess. Well, let’s take hold and help a little here. 

{The work to be done must be carefully assigned and rehearsed, to 

keep everybody busy, in a natural, easy, practical way.) 

Enter CARLETON, R., dressed in his best. 

DOUG, {paiisinq with plant in hand). Here comes our president 
in his brand new togs! 


44 


SOME CLASS 


ROY. Some rig that, Carleton. Just out of the band-box? 

CARL. Been to the photographer. (VI. meets hiin and they walk front. 
Others work hack, 'paying no attention, save KATH., u’Ao grabs paper and 
sketches them.) 

VI. How fine you look, Carleton! Just like a Senior president 
ought to look! Turn around, and let me see your back! (He obeys). 
Fine! You need a rose—just one rose—wait! (Takes rose from belt, 
selecting it with great care, and pins it to his lapel, standing back to note 
effect.) Verily, Solomon, in all his glory, was not arrayed like this one 
of the he’s! 

CARL. But you, Viola,—whatever you wear,—are a dream,—a 
vision,—a living poem of light and fire and sunshine! 

VI. Now, where’d you learn that, Carl? 

CARL. Our last evening, Viola. Do you realize it? Our very last 
gathering together as classmates,'—Seniors, anyway,—for though we 
may have class re-unions, of course, when the Alumni get together,— 
it can’t be quite the same! 

VI. Of course not! I’ll come with my husband— 

CARL. Your what? Who? 

VI. And 5 'ou’il bring your v/ife— 

CARL. Never! 

VI. You won’t leave the poor woman at home all alone, will you? 
She won’t like that! 

CARL. There won’t be any “she,” unless—unless— 

DOUG. Did you notice the bungle that fool man made in the bust 
of Shakespeare, Carleton? 

CARL, (turning quickly). No! What— 

ROY. Didn’t Viola tell you— 

DOUG. Been otherwise engaged, I suppose. 

VI. (hastily). No, not engaged —(walking up toward bust). 

CARL, (following her). Yet! (They reach bust. He takes her arm. 
She draws away, bashfully). 

ROY. Careful! Don’t knock it over! It may bust— 

ALL. (scornfully). Bust! (Going behind for rugs, etc.) 

ROY. Well, go on a “bust,” then! We aim to please! 

ARA. Oh! (screams.) 

ALL (rushing to entranGey from, off stage.) What? Is it broken? 

ARA. No! I—guess not! But I’ve just thought of the most beau¬ 
tiful rhyme! 

ALL. (in disgust). Humph! (Withdrawing to work again.) 

Enter JACK and CARL, with table. 

JACK. Where’ll you have it, Kathryn? 

KATH. At back, for Prof., you know! (Enters, followed by others 
with rugs.) 

JACK. (Hands on hips, surveying stage.) Well, it’s almost fixed! 
When we get that box out— 


45 


SOME CLASS 

DUDE. Be careful! Don’t jar it! 

JACK. And after tonight, where’ll we be? And next year,—say, 
what do you suppose will become of our High School? 

VI. {with vase of roses for table). It’ll go all to pieces, of course! 

KATH. (spreading rug). It’s too dreadful to think of! (Stands 
up, looking around stage). Isn’t there a single one of us coming back 
to post graduate? 

(All shake heads). Then there is absolutely no hope. 

CARRIE. (Moving chairs around, to try various effects. The boys 
are busy bringing them in, one at a time, slowly, to take up time.) Think 
of our dear old school,—its studies,—its debates,—its games,—its 
songs,—its yells,—its—its—blessed old Gym,—being left in such in¬ 
competent hands as the present Junior Class. It’s—it’s appalling. 

HAN. O don’t, Carrie Belle,—I just can’t bear it. (Leans head on 
MISS M’s shoulder, who comforts her). 

DOLLY. Going to have a place for pennants? (KATH. nods, and 
points.) To think, after we’ve succeeded in getting every department 
of the school and campus life in such excellent condition, that we must 
leave it all to go to wreck and ruin. 

DOUG. The Board of Education will weep and wail and gnash its 
teeth in righteous rage! 

CARL. But there’s no help for it! The High School is doomed! 
doomed! After four years of steadily climbing upward, with a record 
no other High School on the American continent ever even distantly 
approached, it must fall, like the Roman Empire, its glory vanished 
like an unforgotten dream. As Louis of France said, “After me, the 
Deluge.” 

DOUG. Is that in your Valedictory, Carleton? 

CARL. No, it would break their hearts if they knew what was 
coming. That’s confidential. 

BABE. Would you mind,—please,—talking about something else? 
(Wipes eyes). 

BART. (On ladder). I’ve quituated every year for a good many 
years, and been a member of more’n a dozen classes, but I snumb! I 
never found it so durned hard to leave the old place before. (Descends 
ladder, walks out L.) , 

CARRIE. Gee! 

ARA. This time, classmates, the “G” means Graduate! 

KATH. And Go! 

CARRIE, (grinning). Likewise “Git.” 

ARA. I wish it meant “Grit!” Won’t you all be glad when tfee 
program is over? 

ALL. (emphatically). No! 

ARA. Say, I started something, didn’t I? 

DOLLY. Maybe it’s easy for you, Arabella Arethusa Araminta 
Ayers, to say good-bye to the good old friends, and the good old 
times, but don’t you dare say “glad” to me! 

ARA. But we’ll meet again, won’t we? 


46 


SOME CLASS 


CARRIE. In heaven, possibly! If you’re very, very good! 

DUDE {chokingly). Let’s change the subject! 

VI. Weren’t we a green crowd four years ago? 

KATH. So unsophisticated. 

CARRIE. Pig-tailed and pigeon-toed! Didn’t know how to get 
water out of the faucets, nor how to find our way to our own class¬ 
rooms ! 

ARA. We were easy all right. I remember some upper classman 
pointed out one of the Senior boys to me as a teacher of botany, and I 
bothered him to death with foolish questions, that he couldn’t answ^er, 
before I found out my mistake or he guessed why I was so “fresh.” 

DOLLY. The good old days when we were green,—but growing! 
Now, we’ve reached the summit of High School experience in the blend 
of all shades of learning in the perfect lustrous white! Yet are we 
content? No! Would we re-live it all? No! Would we stand still? 
No! Then what do we want? Do we know? No! 

DUDE. Don’t turn on the weeps again, Dolly! 

BABE. Let us laugh, sing, and be merry, for tomorrow, we— 

DOLLY. Get married! 

VI. Maybe! 

CARL, {looking at her). Here’s hoping! 

CARRIE. We’ll have to ask our Class Prophet about that. 

DOUG. How about it, Kathryn? 

KATH. I cannot answer—even for myself! 

CARRIE. Dear old Gym! How can I tear myself away? 

KATH. Wherever I go, I shall carry my beloved Art with me. I 
shall live for Art, work for Art, pray for Art, die for Art, if need be! 

DOUG. Lucky Art! 

.JACK. And football! We exchange the pigskin for the sheepskin— 

BABE. I wonder why it’s sheepskin! We’ve no call to be sheepish! 

CARL. Skin of sheep—the Ram—sign Aries, the head—intellect— 
wisdom—See? 

BABE. Mercy, Dude,—Mina,—it’s 4, and we’re to be here in our 
places at 8. We have to see the dressmaker, you know. 

DUDE. What more is to be done, Kathryn? 

KATH. Just the flowers—the paper vines— 

VI. One of the boys— 

CARRIE. Boys nothing! What am I here for? {Springs up the. 
ladder.) Hand me the wreaths. {Sits on top. y\. goes up with wreath, 
KATH. follows, then ARA. as many as can crowd on ladder without 
spoiling the picture, a large vine of white roses in hand. It forms anarch 
over CARRIE’S head, girls on each side holding ends, BABE and DUDE 
at foot, on floor). 

Enter PROF. C. R. 

ROY. That bust! 

PROF. G. You mean broke, don’t you, Leroy ? What was it? 

LEROY. A false alarm! 

PROF. C. What a pretty picture—our sweet girl graduates high 
up the ladder! {They drop vireath and hurry down to prevent his seeing 
the bust. From this on, every one of the class tries to keep him away from 


SOME CLASS 


47 


the lantern, and keep it hidden, while he is equalhj as determined to get to it.) 
I see you’re all here, and all busy! Come here, Douglas, I want to 
show—(DOUG, reluctantly steps from in front of lantern, LEROY tak¬ 
ing his place.) —you, too, Leroy, (ROY leaves, KATH. takes place. 
PROF. C. is searching pockets.) Why, what,— I don’t seem to have,— 
come, Kathryn,— {She leaves, DUDE taking place, /Is the change is 
made, he sees package.) O there— 

VI. {intercepting him.) See, professor, don’t you think these colors 
drape— 

PROF. C. Fine! But the— {starts for package). 

CARL, {intercepting him, and whirling him to front.) And the 
flowers, professor,—the palms, the— 

PROF. C. Yes, yes, but I’ll see them tonight. I must— {walks up 
to lantern again.) 

DOLLY. Come behind the scenes, professor. I want you to tell 
me which— 

PROF. C. O it doesn’t matter, Dolly. I just can’t take— 

KATH. How do you like my sketches, professor? {Shows them.) 
PROF. C. Some other time, Kathryn! 

ARA. I’d like to read you this poem, professor! 

PROF. C. Not a minute to spare, Arabella. 

JACK. Do j'^ou like the table here, professor? 

PROF. C. Anywhere! Anywhere, Jack! I must get— {Gets to 
lantern again. DUDE keeps between him and package, hoivever he 
moves.) 

DOUG, {leads hmi down again). We haven’t placed the chairs 
yet, you see. Left them piled up here to have room to move about in. 

PROF. C. Certainly! Certainly. {Looks watch.) I must get— 
Won’t you please move, Dude—I mean, Mina? I have to get— 
DUDE {innocently). But I have to stand— 

PROF. C. I won’t disturb you but a minute. I seethe expressman 
brought— 

DUDE. Professor, are you going to the office? {Very nervous.) 
PROF. C. Not until I— 

BABE. But can’t 5 ’^ou come now? We want to— 

PROF. C. Just as soon as I—(mr^/res o /or it and gets it.) — 
open this package. 

ALL {in great dismay.) Oh! 

CARL. But hadn’t you better wait— 

PROF. C. Wait? I can’t! The expressman brought—{Fumbles 
with string.) 

DOUG. Yes, but perhaps there was a mistake. Perhaps— 

PROF. C. Mistake? O I hope not! If—it seems well wrapped. 
{Cuts string.) Well, I wouldn’t want it to get broken. , 

CARL. Should say not! But— 

PROF. C. {getting it unwrapped.) There! {Discloses large lan¬ 
tern.) 


48 


SOME CLASS 


ALL. {In amazement). Oh! 

PROF. C. (Surprised at their excitement). It’s a perfectly good 
lantern. I need it in that closet under the library staircase, you 
know— 

DOLLY (half-laughing, half-crying). Bless his dear old heart! 

Stage gradually darkens. 

DUDE. It’s getting dark, Babe. The dressmaker— 

PROF. C. (fussing with lantern). Like the Senior brain, it’s nicely 
trimmed, too, and (shaking it) well filled. (Feels pockets for match — 
first one, then the other). 

JACK, (hands him one from his own pocket), Here’s one, pro¬ 
fessor. 

PROF, (k Thank you! (Scratches it on trouser leg, without 
lighting it). 

CARL, (fondly). You couldn’t find your match, you know! 

PROPk C. (pleased). Thank ^oit! 

Pause. PROF. C. strikes match, lights lantern. 

VIOLA. It burns! 

PROF. C. Just an ordinary lantern, of course, like any one of you, 
but one little bit of flame from without sets afire the oil of wisdom 
within, till it illuminates all the space around itself with a real light 
of both inspiration and cheer. Clear, isn’t it? 

DOUG. Bright! 

PROF. C. Boys and girls, I’m looking for a “big night” tonight! 
You know, somehow, I’ve always considered this class my very own 
class,—its girls, my girls; its boys, my boys; its work, my work; its 
play, my play. 

CARRIE. Some class to us! 

PROF. C. (Starts h. with lantern). I’m going to miss you all. 
I daren’t say how much! 

CARL. Wherever you go, Professor,—let the light shine bright! 

He holds up lantern, and spot-light is turned on him. 
CURTAIN. 

EPILOGUE. 

SCENE:— Same as last act, chairs in place. Graduates seated, girls in 
vjJiite, arms full of flowers. Diplomas at feet of each. If desired, the 
following stanza may he sung to same air as Song in ACT III. If not, 
just the picture is shown, PROF. C. and MISS M. standing at back. 

Ring, O bell! Sound your knell! 

We’ve not long to heed your spell! 

Freshmen new, Sophomores true. 

Into Juniors grew! 

Now as Seniors we recall 
Memories most sweet to all, 

Though we tell, bravely tell. 

One and all. Farewell! 

CURTAIN. 


TWO DECIDED NOVELTIES 

FOR PRIMARY GRADES 


The Midgets’ Grand Parade 

A delightful pageant of little drills, marches, songs and pantomimes 
for the tiny lots. Introduces Mayor, Selectmen, Band, Firemen, 
Tradespeople, Suffragettes, Etc., of Midget Town, all in characteristic 
costume. Time, 30 min. 25 cents. 


The Funny Little Food Folks 

A novelty entertainment for children. Requires 5 boys and 4 
girls, or more. Prof. Heideldorfer gives his famous lecture on pure 
foods and the “Funny Little Food Folks’* appear unexpectedly and 
sing catchy songs. Easy to get up. Time, about 30 min. 25 cents. 


A SPLENDID NEW PLAY 

FOR INTERMEDIATE GRADES 


Closing Day at Beanville School 

By Willis N. Bugbee. For 7 boys and 8 girls (more or less). 
One of the most popular of the grade plays. Just the kind of play 
that teachers and pupils and parents all like. Easy to produce. No 
scenery required. Time, 30 min. 25 cents. 


The Willis N. Bugbee Co., Syracuse, N. Y. 










LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

Three SpleiK 

FOR OL] 

The Coonville ’Ristocrat Club 

A negro entertainment in one act by Willis N. Bugbee. For 6 
males and 6 females. Represents a meeting of the ’Ristocrat Club. 
One of the few negro plays that is entirely free from all vulgarity. 
Extremely funny. Suitable for school, church or society. Time, 1 
hour. 25 cents. 


Hiram and the Peddlers 

A farce in one act by Willis N. Bugbee. For 4 males and 2 
females. Hiram agrees to look after the peddlers while his sister 
Jane attends to her baking, and the way he gets taken in is a cau¬ 
tion. All ends happily however. Pat, the hired man, and Deacon 
Pettingill furnish considerable comedy. Time, 30 min. 25 cents. 


Uncle Si and the Sunbeam Club 

FOR GRAMMAR GRADES 


By Willis N. Bugbee. A play in two acts for grammar grades 
or lower high schools. For 7 males and 7 females. Has given im¬ 
mense satisfaction wherever presented. Gives opportunity for two 
or three songs, or other specialties. Time, 40 min. 25 cents. 


The Willis N. Bugbee Go., Syracuse, N. Y. 













